Life in the Fast Lane
by Shugs
Summary: At 24 the last thing Dean wants is his little brother's help, especially while trying to prove himself a hunter worthy of his Father's approval. But when the hunt for a Shapeshifter proves to be much more than he can handle and John is nowhere to be found, Sam's help might just be what he needs to get out of this one alive... Even though it's been two years since they last spoke.
1. Surely make you loose your mind

Quite a few people have mentioned that they miss the earlier Supernatural episodes, before the demons & angels and the Apocalypse. So I thought I'd try my hand at writing some fanfiction that takes place about two years before the show starts, it was harder than I thought it would be!

**Life in the Fast Lane**  
Chapter 1 - Surely make you loose your mind...

Dean swore under his breath as his gaze momentarily drifted up to the rearview mirror, his eyes instantly focusing on the flashing lights that lit up the dark road behind him. His foot was practically on the floor, but he couldn't seem to shake the determined cop that had been trailing him since Scythe. On any other night after any other hunt, it wouldn't have bothered him in the least, after all; it wasn't the first time the long arm of the law was on his tail but tonight was different, and they had him in their sights for much more than the regular theft, fraud and forgery. With one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other applying pressure to the open wound in his side, his mind was racing just about as fast as his car was devouring the country road ahead. The night as far as he was concerned, couldn't get any worse. Though his father wasn't there with him he could already hear the tone in his voice, the anger and disappointment following every other word as he pointed out one mistake after another. Dean sank down into his well worn leather seat as the inevitable confrontation circled in the back of his troubled mind. He knew what his father would have to say when they did eventually meet up, and just the thought of it had his stomach in knots. At twenty-four, it was time for him to clean up his own mess.

"Damn it Dean, think." He growled to himself, the sound of the Impala's roaring engine and the blare of the police car's sirens drowned out by the heavy rain pounding hard against his windshield. When the cell phone on the seat next to him rang he barely gave it glance, he had other things on his mind, but it was the name he saw on the display that forced him to do a double take. He hadn't spoken to his younger brother since the night Sam announced that he was leaving for Stanford. Though two years had gone by he could still recall every detail of the fight Sam had with their father, THE fight that saw them part ways. For good. He'd checked in every chance that he got but kept his distance. Needless to say, for Sam to give him a call out of the blue, he knew something had to be terribly wrong. So when his cell rang once again, Dean sucked in a breath, wiped the blood from his right hand onto his jeans and reached over to grab the phone from the seat beside him. "Sammy?" He started, his heart in his throat. "What's wrong are you alright?"

"Unbelievable." Sam was quick to reply, passing a hand through his hair as he straightened out in his chair. "I'm the one that calls and the very first thing you ask, is if I'm alright? " He continued, closing the book that was open on the desk in front him.

"Why else would you call?" Dean snapped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. "It's not like you'd call just to chat, especially not after all that stuff you said the night you took off. If I remember correctly you wanted nothing to do with..."

"Dean I'm calling to ask what the Hell you're doing all over the late night news!" Sam cut in, his gaze drifting back to the television screen in the corner of the room. "Cops in Wyoming are looking for a suspect in the shooting death of a Sheriff... they've got the dash-cam footage from her car, Dean, they're on a manhunt for a cop-killing suspect and that suspect is you!"

"News sure does travel fast." Dean casually remarked, his gaze drifting up to the rear view mirror as the cop car made another approach, another attempt to force him off the road. He was trying to keep his cool, trying to put up the front his younger brother was use to, but he could hear it in his own voice. He wasn't fooling anyone.

"Dude, this is serious!"

"It's not what it looks like, Sammy." Dean calmly started, watching as the speedometer needle climbed and the Impala once again pulled ahead of the police cruiser. "It might have looked like a cop, but the thing I killed wasn't even human." "Well I assumed it wasn't but the general public doesn't know that now do they? All they see is some punk-ass thug pulling the trigger on a Sheriff! " Sam paused for only a moment as the newscast once again played the short clip, pleading with the public to help identify the unknown gunman. For something that had happened only a few hours ago, the news had spread like wildfire. Maybe it was because the victim was a Sheriff, or because it had happened in a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Whatever had led to the media frenzy, Sam knew his brother was in trouble. He let out a sigh as he got up from his seat and reached over to shut the TV off. "Dean you've worked jobs all over this country, chances are someone out there, somewhere, is going to recognize you."

"I somehow doubt that." Dean replied, wincing in pain as his car hit a pothole in the road. "Most dash-cam footage is grainy at best, I can tell ya right now that anyone is going to have a hard time making a positive ID off some static filled screen-shot."

"You shot a cop in clear view of a camera!" Sam cut in as he started to pace the floor of his tiny apartment, angry that his older brother seemed to be brushing off an incident that had put him in the headlines. "Dude, what the Hell were your thinking!"

"You really want me to answer that?" Dean asked, the question followed by an awkward and almost eerie moment of silence. "It wasn't a cop it was a Shapeshifter and a damn smart one at that. I'd been tracking the thing for the past three days, Sam. It got the jump on me twice and there was no way in Hell I was going to let it get the best of me again. Yeah it looked like a Sheriff when I pulled the trigger but I saw her body, I knew she was already dead when that damn THING stepped out of her car. I wasn't going to let that Shifter get away from me again." "Yeah I get that." Sam cut in as his voice started to rise. "But a Shapeshifter isn't what they're going to see, Dean! They see you take aim at a cop. If they get their hands on you, they've got you on the hook for murder!"

"You think I don't know that?" Dean growled as he eyed the dark road ahead, doing his best to ignore the flashing lights behind him. When the Impala hit another pot hole in the road, he couldn't help but swear under his breath, the jolt of pain reminding him of the open wound. He could feel the blood streaming down from his left side and when he took a quick glance down, he could see that it had now started to soak through his clothes; pooling on the leather seat next to him and following the seems over the edge. Putting the call on speakerphone, he set his cell phone down beside him and grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, applying pressure to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "I screwed up, okay? Thanks for pointing it out like I was oblivious to the situation I've put myself in. Is there anything else you think I should know Sam?" There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but pause in his steps, among the engine noise and the pounding rain something in the background had just caught his attention. "Dean are those sirens?" He finally asked, the delayed response sending chills down his spine.

Dean couldn't help but swallow hard, the last thing he wanted was to drag his little brother into his mess but Sam had just backed him into a corner. "Yeah, there's a cop car riding my ass." He explained, his blunt tone of voice leaving nothing to doubt. "Guess I shouldn't have stopped for that last drink on my way out of Scythe. Someone in the bar must have called me in."

"So you took off?" Sam asked as he started to pace again. "Dean, evading police doesn't seem like the best idea. They probably already have a roadblock set up down the road, they're gonna..."

"What the Hell am I supposed to do?" Dean shouted, instantly silencing the other man. "You want me to pull over, hope the guy doesn't shoot me again and tell him that the Sheriff I killed was one of two Shapeshifters that got away from me the first time around?" Sam swore to himself as he passed a hand over his face, the more he heard the worse it seemed to get. "He shot you?" "Yeah he shot me!" Dean barked, putting both hands on the wheel as he eyed a curve in the road up ahead. The wet pavement at those speeds was like a sheet of glare ice and every corner he took he could feel the back end kick out, the weight of the car determined to keep it going in a straight line. "You saw the headlines, armed and dangerous right?" He asked, drifting into the corner at seventy miles per hour; praying that the tires would grip the pavement and send him where he wanted to go. "As far as they know, I killed a cop in cold blood. Well they're going to take any shot at me that they can get." He continued, the Impala violently swerving left to right before finally straightening out. "He winged me as I was getting into the car, hurts like hell but I'll live."

There was another short pause and though Sam had been determined to put hunting behind him, all he wanted at that very moment was to be sitting in the car next to his brother. Just like the old times. It was something Dean would never admit but without him there, his older brother was just plain reckless. Sam took a deep breath as he leaned back against his kitchen table, the sound of the police sirens now the only thing he could hear on the other end of the line. "Where's Dad?" They were simple words but they made the breath catch in the back of Dean's throat. If Sam had found out about his current situation on the news, surely their father had as well. "Dad and I split up." He said simply, wincing in pain as he straightened out.

"You mean he left you." Sam replied, his tone of voice laced with disappointment and anger as his gaze momentarily drifted over to a family picture on the desk nearby.

"No Sam, I mean we split up." Dean growled, knowing exactly what his younger brother was implying as his mind drifted back to one of the last jobs they worked together. They had been hunting down an vengeful spirit and the moment they located the remains they needed to salt and burn, their father announced that he would drive ahead to check out the next case while he and his brother wrapped things up. It was no big deal to him but for Sam, it was just one more order for them to follow without question or choice. "This is my job, I let those Shapeshifters slip through my fingers so I stayed behind to finish them off." "Dean, I hate to say it I really do, but the man ditched you. Instead of finishing the job like he should have, he jumped to the next one and left you behind to clean up. When are you going to see that he treats you like..."

"Listen Sammy, I'm sorry but I've really got to go." Dean cut in as he reached for his phone, flipping it shut before the other man could say another word. Though he knew his younger brother had good intentions, the last he needed right now was to be lectured. Their father was far from being perfect but he wasn't the one that had a problem with the way they were treated. That was Sam's problem and it was one of the only things he and his brother didn't see eye to eye on. What he saw in the man and what Sam saw, were two very different things.

* * *

Sam swore under his breath as the line went dead, he didn't regret a word he said he only regretted the way he had said them. Eyeing the only family picture he had from across the room, he pulled a chair and took a seat at the round kitchen table, sucking in a breath and pushing all emotions aside as he prepared to do something he hadn't done in at least two years. Call his father. He was still bitter about their last fallout and he could still hear the tone of his voice in the back of his head; John telling him that he was turning his back on family and if he wanted to leave, not to bother coming back. But this wasn't about him and the man that had dictated the past twenty years of his life, this was about Dean and he needed help, or at the least a voice of reason he was willing to listen to.

As the phone rang and rang, Sam started to have second thoughts about making that call. What exactly was he going to say to the man anyway? It wasn't the first time he'd left before the job was done. Tapping a finger on the table as he tried to find the right words, he let the phone ring a few more times and then finally hung up. It was late, his father was probably sitting at some bar somewhere, too busy getting drunk and hustling pool to check in on Dean and the hunt he'd dumped on him. Sam let out a sigh, starring at his phone for a moment before punching down his brother's number, hoping to get him on the line again but knowing that the other man would more than likely not pick up.

* * *

The storm wasn't letting up, if anything it was getting worse and the wipers could barely keep up with the rain pounding against the windshield as the Impala tore down the road like a bat out of Hell. Ignoring the phone that was ringing on the seat next to him, Dean once again glanced up at his rear view mirror, momentarily eyeing the police car that was trailing him and trying to think of a way to loose it. "Come on." He growled to himself, the situation he was in quickly getting out of hand. He didn't even know where they were anymore, they hadn't passed a house for miles and when he'd peeled out of the bar's parking lot in Scythe, he hadn't even taken notice of the direction he was heading. Whatever backwoods highway he was on, he was sure the officer behind him knew exactly where they would end up and surely there would be a blockade waiting for him when they got there. Spike belt and all. If it came to that he knew he would have to turn himself in but until it did, he was ready to make a run for it. He was already in over his head anyway.

Though he knew what his car was capable of and he was confident behind the wheel, the driving conditions he faced were less than ideal and he knew the Impala would handle much differently on the wet curvy road he was on, than it would on any straight and dry stretch. "Alright Baby..." He said quietly, well aware of the risks he was taking as he put his foot to the floor and watched the needle climb. "Let's see what that plastic piece of crap can do." The engine opened full throttle with a snarl and in an instant, the Impala started to pull away from the police car that had been only two or three car lengths behind it. Pushed back into his leather seat, Dean couldn't help but cringe as he pulled his right hand away from the wound in his side to grip the steering wheel instead; feeling the blood ooze out from between his fingers as he tightened his grip. The water pooling on the pavement was concealing everything from potholes to ruts and each time he hit one or the other, he could feel the car shake around him, each vibrating turning into a painful jolt.

Cresting a hill the Impala momentarily soared, the flashing lights in his rear view mirror disappearing; the police car was falling behind and with the distance between them growing, Dean was convinced that he was only one curve away from being out of sight. That's all he really needed, so when he saw the road up ahead take a turn towards the left, he knew that he was far enough ahead to simply vanish into the night. His plan was simple; pull off the road and cut the lights, wait until the blaring sirens passed and then pull a U-turn to head back the same way he'd came. His plan might have been simple but things were about to get complicated.

Going into the corner Dean knew right away that he had no control of his car. He could feel her hydroplaning across the wet pavement like a stone skipping the surface of the water and there was nothing he could do about it. The back-end kicked out, the Impala started skidding sideways and though he had the steering wheel cranked as far left as it would go, the massive car was still heading for the ditch at 90mph. Swearing under his breath, he took his foot off the gas but didn't dare touch the brakes, not wanting to lock up the rear wheels and make a bad situation even worse. If anything good would come of this; he thought to himself, watching through the passenger window as the tree line approach at an alarming rate of speed, was that those trees and underbrush would be enough to hide him from the cop he was outrunning.

Though it all happened so fast, Dean had enough time to take it all in as the wheels left the wet pavement and started spinning in the dirt on the shoulder of the road. When the tires finally did find traction, he straightened the wheel and the car spun around, narrowly missing a tree as it started down the embankment head first, the headlights lighting up the dark of night and illuminating the trunks of trees as they flew by. He slammed on the brakes, but the mud was just as slick as the wet pavement had been and the car refused to stop or even slow down. When his eyes focused on a tree directly in front of him, Dean couldn't help but swear under his breath, knowing that this would be the one to stop the Impala dead in it's tracks. Never before had he felt so helpless as he did right then and there, staring down a tree he knew he couldn't avoid. Unable to do anything about it, he cut the engine, shut the lights and braced himself for the inevitable impact.


	2. Lonely is the Night

**Life in the Fast Lane**  
CHAPTER 2 - Lonely is the night

Sam swore under his breath as he eyed the phone in his hand, Dean wasn't answering his calls anymore and his father had yet to pick up on even one of them. Letting out a sigh, he took a seat at his desk and flipped his laptop open, typing in the word Scythe and hoping it would lead him to whatever small town his brother had mentioned. Because aside from barreling down some country road, he didn't know where Dean was or even where he had been heading. When a small town in Nebraska came up on the screen in front of him, the name of another hunter instantly came to mind. "Bobby." He muttered to himself, reaching for the phone and punching down the other man's number. They hadn't spoken for years but if anyone could help him at a time like this, it was Bobby Signer. It only rang once and for a brief moment, Sam couldn't help but feel like he was twelve years old again, calling for help or backup from a man he knew he and his brother could always count on. "Hey uncle Bobby, it's Sam."

_"Sam! How ya been boy, how's school going?"_

"It's going good Bobby." He was quick to reply, passing a hand through his hair as he tried to find the words. "Listen I know it's late but I could really use your help with something."

_"Sure, anything for you kid."_ Bobby started, pausing for only a moment as something suddenly came to mind. _"Everything alright?"_

There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but suck in a breath. "No actually, it's Dean." He quietly started, eyeing the map that was open on the screen in front of him. "I didn't get all the details but he was working a case and he killed a Shapeshifter that was walking around as a Sherriff... now he's got the cops on his tail. We spoke on the phone but I have no idea where he is, he mentioned a town call Scythe but I don't know which way he was heading." Sam paused for only a moment as he felt the breath catch in the back of his throat, the scenario playing out in the back of his mind was making him choke on his words. "I don't know what to do Bobby, I don't even know where he is. I tired calling Dad but he won't pick up the phone."

_"All right, just calm down."_ The older man started, his gaze drifting over to the police scanner nearby. Though he'd been following the story as it unfolded, he didn't have any reason to think it was anything he should be concerned about. Until now. _"Scythe isn't too far from here and I've been listening to my scanner all night, I think I might know where your brother is. Nothing much ever happens around here, so this car chase I'm hearing about over the line has got to be him."_

Sam swore under his breath as he leaned back in his chair. "What the Hell are we supposed to do?" He asked, the despair coming out in the tone of his voice.

_"There's nothing we can do, kid."_ Bobby calmly replied. _"We're not talking about monsters we can hunt down here, we're talking about the law. I hate to say it I really do but we can't help him out of this one."_ He explained, the silence on the other end of the line just as eerie as the voices coming in over the police scanner sitting atop his cluttered desk._ "Get some sleep and first thing tomorrow morning, you get your ass over..."_

"Bobby, I don't think Dean has until morning." Sam interrupted as he swallowed the lump that was caught in his throat. "They're going to set up a roadblock or toss a spike belt out in front of him."

_"Yeah I know that but there's nothing we can do about it."_ Bobby replied. _"I know you're worried about him but Dean's a good hunter..."_

"He might be a good hunter but he's far from being a good civilian." Sam once again cut in, instantly silencing the other man.

There was a moment of silence and Bobby couldn't help but let out a sigh, he wasn't talking to the kid he remembered anymore he was talking to a young man. _"Sam, this is his mess and he's the one that's going to have to deal with it. We can't do anything to help him out right now, so like it or not, we're just going to have to sit back and see how this plays out. I'll keep tabs on the situation, hopefully he turns himself him. You get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."_

Though Sam was reluctant to agree, he knew Bobby was right. There really wasn't anything they could do at that point to help his older brother. "All right, I'll be there as soon as I can. See you in the morning."

* * *

"See you then." Bobby replied before hanging up the phone and turning his attention to the police scanner on his desk. "Damn it John, where the hell are you now." He muttered under his breath as he reached over to turn the volume up. _"Unit 5-2 do you have a visual yet?"_ The dispatcher asked, her monotone voice echoing in the room. _"Negative, no sign of the car yet but we're ready and waiting at the end of RR5."_ Came the simple reply._ "Unit 7-4 are you still in pursuit of the suspect?"_ The dispatcher continued, every little bit of information helping Bobby paint the scene. _"Still in pursuit but I've lost sight... wait, there's a washout up ahead..."_ There was a moment of silence and Bobby felt his heart hit the bottom of his stomach, now he was listening from the very edge of his seat. _"There's a twenty foot section of road missing; I'm going to need backup to search the river banks, there's no way he could have jumped it."_ Swearing under his breath, Bobby hit record on his old tape deck and got up from his seat, mentally mapping out every back road leaving from Scythe as he headed upstairs to get changed. He had to get down there, he had to see it for himself if only to rule out the possibility that it involved Dean.

The drive out to Scythe was long but not nearly as long as the drive down RR5 would prove to be. With the rain pounding hard against his windshield, all he could think about was the car chase that had preceded him down that long winding road. He could hardly see more than a few yards in front of him, he couldn't imagine what Dean had faced traveling down that same road at what he could only assume was double, if not triple the posted speed limit. When he finally did pull up to the scene, the very first thing he noticed was the amount of police cars. There were two cars on his side and half a dozen on the other side of the gaping hole. He grabbed an umbrella from the seat beside him and stepped out of his truck, doing his best to keep a professional front as he approached one of the many officers on the scene. He pulled out a badge as the officer turned to face him, their eyes meeting for only a moment before his drifted off to the washed out road and the yellow police tape that was beating in the wind. "I got a call about a high speed pursuit." He started with a certain authority in his voice. "Mind telling me what happened?"

The officer offered a nod, the rain pouring off the brim of his hat as he took a glance over his shoulder at his patrol car. "I got dispatched to a bar in Scythe, someone spotted a man matching the description of a suspect we were looking for."

"Did you get a good look at him? Can you describe him to me?"

"Caucasian male, early to mid twenties with a fit build. Light brown hair, torn jeans and a long brown leather coat. I pulled up to the bar as he was getting into his car, a black four door, late '60 model Chevrolet."

Bobby swallowed hard as the other man's words circled in the back of his mind, the officer had pretty much just described Dean. "Was there a confrontation?"

"I told him to stop and put his hands up where I could see them but he ignored my orders, so I opened fire."

"You're telling me that you discharged your weapon in a crowded parking lot, because a man who fit the description of a suspect you were looking for, refused to acknowledge your orders?" Bobby cut in, his eyes now narrowing on the man in uniform standing there in front of him.

"I was told the suspect was armed and dangerous." The officer defended. "I fired three shots, his car wasn't in a crowded area and there were no risks for any stray bullets. The first bullet grazed him, the other two hit the car as he sped off. I followed him for miles then lost sight of him. After another mile or two, I came across the washout and called it in." Bobby's eyes drifted over as the man pointed towards his colleagues in the background, through the wall of rain and the glow of blue and red lights, he could see them searching the fast moving water with their spotlights for any sign of the car or their suspect. "We've got officers scouring the riverbanks searching for him, but at the speeds he was traveling..."

"How fast were you going?" Bobby asked, pausing for only a moment as lightning lit up the night sky and thunder drowned them out.

"I backed off when speeds reached 70mph. The guy was driving like a maniac. At those speeds in these conditions, I'm surprised he didn't take the ditch." The officer started, wiping the rain from his eyes as he turned slightly to face the gaping hole in the road. "We don't have the slightest chance of finding that car until this storm passes and the water drops significantly." He continued. "We'll search the riverbanks throughout the night, but I don't honestly think he made it."

"Do me a favor son" Bobby started, reaching into his overcoat pocket and pulling out a business card. "Give me a call if you find anything."

"Yeah, sure thing Detective." The officer replied as he tucked the card away.

Bobby offered a nod as he walked back to his truck, the young hunter's fate the only thing on his mind as he listened to the sound of rushing water. Folding the umbrella, he climbed in behind the wheel and watched through the rain streaming down his windshield as police on both sides of the road searched through the storm. The red & blue glow of lights reflecting off of each and every rain drop was both eerily dreadful and beautiful at the same time. He sucked in a breath as he reached for his phone, punching down the number of a man who's intentions were almost always misunderstood. "Pick up the damn phone John, it's Bobby. Your boys could really use your help right now." He growled before flipping the phone shut. Though the man loved his kids, it wasn't the kind of love the pair needed and more than once had Bobby questioned the choices the man had made for his sons. He'd watched the pair on and off over the years and it was in the little things they said and did that made him think the boys had grown up much too fast. Flipping his phone open once again, he punched down Sam's number. He didn't have to wait long for the other line to pick up. "I thought I told you to get some sleep."

_"Have you heard from him?"_ Sam asked.

"No I haven't." Bobby calmly started. "But the police chase is over, the cop that was trailing him thinks your brother might have hit a washout. They're searching the riverbanks but it's still coming down pretty hard over here, they haven't found him or the car yet."

Sam's heart his the bottom of his stomach, the outcome was something he never could have imagined. _"Maybe it wasn't him."_

"Sam, the description I got makes it hard for it to have been anyone else but him." Bobby was quick to reply. "If they find something they'll let me know, but until that water level drops off..." He paused for only a moment as he swallowed the lump that was caught in his own throat. "Just get some sleep and I'll see ya in the morning." He said before hanging up and leaning back in his seat, listening to the pounding rain as he tried to keep what little shred of hope he still had left.

* * *

When Dean finally regained consciousness, the only thing he could hear was the heavy rain pounding against his car. Inside his throbbing head however, it sounded more like a freight train than it did of a summer storm. Gone were the flashing lights in his rearview mirror and the howl of blaring police sirens had been replaced by the sound of water dripping through the cracks in his windshield. The sharp burning pain in his right side was still there, but it was now shadowed by the pain of each and every breath.

"Son of a bitch." He groaned to himself, putting a bloody hand out onto the dashboard to push himself off the steering wheel that was pressed to his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and focus on the events that had left him in his current situation. He killed a Shapeshifter, he'd been shot, the police were on his tail, the road was dark, it was raining hard and he took the corner way too fast. The punches just seemed to keep coming and his hellish night was now starting to drag on. Leaning back into his seat, he sucked in a ragged breath, pressing his hand to the open wound and cringing as he felt the pain spread like a wildfire. Though the bullet had simply grazed him, he knew he was in need of medical attention, he could already feel the affects of the blood he'd lost and the force of the impact hadn't helped.

He didn't have the slightest idea where he was, what road he'd been on or even where he was heading, but as the Impala careened down the embankment into the woods something in the darkness had caught his eye. Between the trees that seemed to be swarming him from all sides, he'd seen the flash of his headlight bounce off something up ahead of him. In his racing train of thoughts right before he came face to face with the tree that stopped him in his tracks, he could have sworn he'd seen the light reflect off the window of a house. Grabbing the keys from the ignition Dean opened the door and stumbled out of his car, falling to his hands and knees the moment he stepped out. His head was spinning and every breath he took was pulling at his battered body; hunched over on the forest floor in the pouring rain, he stayed for a moment just trying to gain his bearings, trying to overcome the weakness he felt creeping up on him. Swallowing hard, he dragged himself up against the car and shut the door, tracing her curves in the dark to make his way towards the trunk. His right leg was killing him, pulsing in rhythm with each heartbeat as he put his weight on it to take a step. It wasn't broken and he could still walk but he knew something was definitely wrong. With the rain pounding hard against him he was cold and soaked to the bone in a matter of only seconds. He opened the trunk and grabbed his flashlight, shoving a few things he thought he might need into his duffle bag; his handgun, a bottle of whisky, his sharpest silver blade and a well stocked first aid kit. Flashlight in hand, he tossed his duffle over his shoulder and started walking back around the Impala, pausing for a moment as he reached the front of the car. It was bad but he knew he'd been lucky. At the speeds he was traveling, it could have been much worse for both him and his car. "Aw Baby I'm sorry." He whispered, using the beam of his flashlight to survey the damage. The bumper had taken the brunt of the impact but the force of it had been enough to shatter the windshield. "Don't you worry I'll get you fixed up in no time." He continued, glancing back up the embankment towards the roadway he'd left, before turning his attention to the darkness in front of him. Thunder growled overhead as he slowly made his way towards the reflection he thought he saw in the broken glass of a rundown shack in the woods. Using his flashlight to light the way, he breathed a sigh of relief when he came across the old homestead. It had seen much better days, but anything was better than standing there in the pouring rain.

Though he knew he wouldn't be able to see her in the darkness, Dean took a look back at where he'd left the Impala before climbing up the front steps of the house, pausing at the doorway before stepping inside. It was a one-room shack and the place was a mess. The door was on the floor, an old table, chairs and a wood stove stood off to one side, while a kitchen stood to the other and what he could only assume had been a bed was collapsed against the back wall. He and Sam had crashed in some pretty nasty places growing up, but this was by far the worse. Dropping his duffle on the table, he grabbed one of the chairs and made his way to the stove; using the old brittle wood to start a fire and grabbing a handful of debris from the floor to stoke the flames. With a fire going, at least he'd be able to keep warm and dry his clothes he thought to himself as he made his way to the table, eyeing an old lantern that stood among the clutter of random dishes. Though it was covered in a thick layer of dust, it was still filled with Kerosene and the moment he brought his lighter to the wick, it lit up the room in it's warm glow. He set his flashlight aside and took another look at the room around him, it looked better in the dark. Grabbing one of the chairs nearby and pulling it up, he carefully shed his leather jacket and set it aside to drip dry.

He sucked in a breath as he took a seat on the dust covered floor, placing the lantern next to him and for the first time, getting a good look at the bullet wound in his left side. He was lucky and he knew it, that cop could have easily killed him. And though he was armed himself, taking a shot on an officer of the law just trying to do his job was something he couldn't do. He knew better than that. They were from two very different worlds and he always did the best he could to stay off their radar. The law wouldn't understand what he does for a living, that was one of the first lessons his father had taught him. Dean winced in pain as he took his shirt off and wrung it out in his hands, watching as the water pooled on the floor in front of him for only a moment before soaking into the wood.

Cold and soaked to the bone, he used his shirt to wipe away the blood that covered his side, careful not to drag it across the open wound. He wouldn't be able to do much tonight with the supplies that he had, but at least he would be able to stop the bleeding. He grabbed a knife from his bag and placed its blade on the stove top as he prepared what he needed to close up the gash. It was something he'd done before, but patching himself up wasn't an easy or pleasant thing to do, it was just something that needed to be done. At least he didn't have to go digging for the bullet this time.

He sucked in a breath as he grabbed the knife from the stove, feeling the heat radiate from the sharp blade as he pressed it flat against his skin to cauterize the wound. The searing pain was almost too much for him to bare; the smell, the feel, the heat... His eyes were tearing up and his heart was starting to race as his body instantly reacted to the pain he'd just inflicted upon himself. Though he had the blade pressed against the wound for only a few seconds, that moment had dragged and when he finally did pull away, the cool air against his skin was almost as painful as the heat had been. He swallowed hard, doing his best to deal with it, just like he always did. "Good times..." He muttered to himself as he set the blade on the floor beside him and reached for the bottle of whisky. He took a swig to numb himself, letting the fiery taste distract him as he poured some of the alcohol on one of the bandages and pressed it up to the wound. Tonight was just one of those nights where the hunt had gotten away from him and the civilians he was trying to save, had only gotten in his way. Nights like these often made him question what he was doing with his life and what he was doing it for. Sam might have turned his back on family but at least Sam had a home, a future and somewhere he belonged. He on the other hand, well he was the one sitting on the cold dirty floor of a rundown shack, living off theft & fraud with absolutely nothing to his name but the knowledge that his life would never reach beyond what little he had, because that's where he belonged... there in the shadow of better men.

Dean took another gulp of whisky as he finished dressing the wound, the destructive thoughts of self worth and doubt now circling in his head. At twenty four he was supposed to be a man, ready and capable of taking care of himself and whatever troubles came his way. Pushing it all aside, he draped his shirt over a chair by the stove to dry and grabbed his flashlight from the table to take another look around. There really wasn't much to the cabin he was in and it didn't seem to matter where he would lie down for the night, because the floor would be just as dirty, cold and uncomfortable anywhere he chose to make his bed. So eyeing a spot on the floor in the far corner by the stove, Dean flipped the table onto its side and dragged it over in hopes that it would divert the cool draft coming in through the doorway and keep some of the stove's heat isolated in his corner.

Grabbing his leather coat from one of the chairs, he shut the lantern off and watched as the flame burned itself out, the tiny flame vanishing along with its light. If he would be stuck there for more than a night, he would need to preserve the little Kerosene he had left. With the stove stocked to its capacity, Dean cleared debris from the floor before kicking off his dirty boots and finally laying himself down for the night, his leather coat serving as a blanket and his only real comfort. He could hear the thunder growling overhead, the rain was still pounding hard against the roof and water still trickling in through the many cracks and crevices in the well aged structure. The sound of water hitting the floor he was lying on was almost as rhythmic as the crackling of sparks in the stove and in no time, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Keep your head down and keep on swinging

**CHAPTER 3 - Keep your head down and keep on swinging  
**

"Dad still wont pick up his phone." Sam grumbled as he climbed into Bobby's truck, the morning sun finally breaking through what was left of the storm clouds in the sky.

"Well how long does it usually take him to get back to you?" Bobby asked as he started his truck and put the shifter into drive. "I mean it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet."

"I don't know, it's the first time I call since I left for school." Sam admitted as he grabbed the map from the seat beside him. "If he doesn't want to talk to me that's fine, but this isn't about me it's about Dean."

There was a moment of silence and Bobby couldn't help but take a quick glance at the angry young man sitting next to him. "I don't think your Dad's trying to avoid you." He quietly started, his gaze drifting back to the road. "Maybe he's just busy."

"Too busy to answer his damn phone when his kids call?" Sam snapped, the frustration surfacing in the tone of his voice.

"He's your father, you know how he can be sometimes." Bobby quietly started, doing what he could to calm the other man. "He probably got caught up on a lead or another job. Dean did say they split up, right?" He continued, leaving out the fact that he had also been unsuccessful in reaching the elusive John Winchester.

"So RR5?" Sam said, changing the subject as he studied the map in his hands. "How far down that road is the washout?" He asked, looking for the river that had overflowed its banks.

"RR5 is the old highway that links Scythe to the west side of Sioux Falls, it cuts right through the woods and comes out on the outskirts of town." Bobby replied. "According to the police, Dean was heading east and made it more than three-quarters of the way before hitting the washout. The cops had a road block set up where RR5 turns into Main West and heads into town." He explained, the sight of the flashing police lights and yellow tape still vivid in his mind. "So we'll take the new highway out to Scythe and then take the old one back towards town."

As they approached a small bar out in the middle of nowhere and Bobby turned off the main road, Sam couldn't help but feel his heart sink like a stone. The big orange signs that marked the closed road and detour where like a punch to the stomach that stole the air from his lungs and sent shivers down his spine. This was for real and only a few hours ago, Dean had been barreling down that road with a cop on his tail and a dead end he didn't know about lurking in the darkness ahead of him. For Bobby, the winding road wasn't nearly as treacherous as it had been the dark and stormy night before. Now that the rain had stopped, the clouds had cleared and the sun was shinning bright. The drive would have been relaxing if it wasn't for the feelings of dread gnawing away at his optimism. The pair rode in silence, each contemplating their next move while mentally preparing for the worse possible scenario, that they would reach the washed out section of road and be met by the news that the Impala had been found, upside down nearly a mile from where she'd plunged in. The windows would be smashed, the interior covered in thick mud and Dean's body would either still be strapped to the car or be nowhere in sight.

"Whoa whoa whoa, pull over." Sam suddenly started, pointing to the side of the road as skid marks on the dirt shoulder caught his eyes. Eyeing what the younger man had been looking at, Bobby pulled over and slipped the shifter into park. "If it rained like hell all night, those ruts would have washed away." Sam continued, climbing out of the truck as Bobby did the same. "Maybe Dean didn't make it as far as that washout." He said as he studied the deep grooves in the mud that led into the woods.

"Well the cop did say he lost sight of him." Bobby replied, starting to wonder if Sam had just stumbled onto something he might have missed. Standing at the top of the slope looking down into the woods, Bobby couldn't help but notice the undergrowth of young trees bent and broken in front of them, just like they'd been plowed into the ground. "Some thirty years ago old Mrs. Wesson had a house out here and judging by the lack of mature trees." The veteran hunter started as he pointed down the slope. "I'm going to assume that this was the driveway." He continued, looking over and catching Sam's eyes. "Looks like someone's gone down there and I somehow doubt it was Mrs. Wesson."

"Maybe Dean missed the corner." Sam remarked, getting a better look down into the dark woods and finally taking notice of what Bobby had pointed out. The brush was thick but the lack of mature trees clearly marked the place where a road or driveway had been. "We need to get down there." He said as he started down the slope.

Though the sun was shining bright it barely penetrated the forest canopy, making the woods seem almost eerie as the pair made their way through the thick underbrush, the raindrops clinging to their clothes. Eying the deep ruts in the mud there was no doubt in Sam's mind, that it had been skidding car tires that had left those gouges in the forest floor and he just knew in his gut, that Dean had been the one who made them. He could picture it all in his head, Dean had taken the corner too fast, had slid off the road and into the woods. When he finally caught a glimpse of the Impala through the trees, his heart jumped into his throat and he paused in his steps. "There it is." He announced, pointing the car out to Bobby before picking up the pace and racing down the rest of the way. Pushing small trees aside Sam and Bobby made their way over to the Impala, both fearing the worse as they eyed the car. Sam froze in his steps as he took it all in, the front end was pushed in, the bumper taking the brunt of the impact with enough force to crack the windshield and blow one of the front tires... but it wasn't the damage caused by the crash that had caught his attention it was the bullet holes in the driver's side door. Dean had told him he'd been shot but when he passed a finger over the hole, that's when it all hit home. As he approached the driver's door, Bobby close in tow, he was relieved to see that his older brother wasn't slumped over behind the wheel but at the same time, worried not to have found him there.

"Maybe he walked away?" Bobby offered, watching as Sam pulled the driver's door open taking a moment to study the blood smeared on the inside of the door's window.

"That's a lot of blood to have just walked away." Sam remarked, those the only words he could manage as he eyed the leather seat and the dark puddles that had pooled on the floor mat. Though the keys were gone from the ignition Dean's phone was among the blood covered items that lay on the floor. Sam couldn't help but let out a sigh as he reached over to pick it up, using a shirt that lay nearby to wipe it off before tucking it into his pocket. "So he crashes the car in the storm and walks away pretty roughed up, where the hell would he go?" When Sam straightened out, Bobby simply pointed him towards an old cabin ahead of them.

"Old Mrs. Wesson's place." He said, catching the younger man's eyes for only a second. "Bank foreclosed on her but they couldn't sell off the property so the house stayed right where it was." Making their way towards the one room shack, Sam started to picture what the place looked like decades ago when an old widow lived out there alone. He could almost see the long driveway as it had been back then, the large tree the Impala hit had been on the corner and it was only one of many that had lined the road. Sam approached cautiously, his mind flashing images of what they might find once they made their way inside. Dean could be dead on the floor where he'd collapsed after bleeding out the night before for all they knew. Worse yet, he might not even be there at all. He could be off in the woods somewhere. The pair stood in the doorway for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness within before finally stepping in, the smell of wet wood, smoke and whisky thick in the musty air.

"There." Bobby whispered, pointing out a pair of muddy boots on the floor in the corner and a pair of Jean clad legs sticking out from behind a table flipped onto its side.

Sam hurried to make his way over, the sight of Dean there on the floor under his leather jacket enough to make the breath catch in the back of his throat. Though he breathed a sigh of relief as he knelt down next to his brother, he knew their ordeal was far from being over. Without giving it a second thought, Sam placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to wake him. It was a simple gesture but it was one he should have known not to make. The moment his hand fell on the other man's shoulder, Dean spun around and delivered a punch with one hand while loading his gun with the other. Sam stumbled back as Dean backed into the corner and took aim.

"Sammy?" Dean muttered, his eyes catching those of his brother for only a moment before focusing on the veteran hunter standing only a few feet behind him. "Bobby?" He continued, disarming his gun and lowering his weapon. For a fraction of a second he'd forgotten where he was and why he was there, but the twisting motion of sitting up in a hurry caught up to him and he couldn't help but put a hand up to his wound and swear under his breath.

"Good to see you too, Dean." Sam grumbled as he picked himself up off the floor, passing a hand over his sore cheekbone as he eyed the bloodstained ace bandage on Dean's side.

"What the hell are the two of you doing here?" Dean asked as he pushed his leather coat aside and set down his gun.

"We came looking for you." Bobby replied, his tone of voice pulling Dean's eyes away from Sam. "What do you think we're doing here?" He asked, reaching over to grab the shirt that was draped over the back of a chair and tossing it to Dean. "C'mon get dressed and let's get out of here."

There was a moment of silence and when Dean's eyes once again drifted back to Sam, it hit him. "You didn't need to come looking for me." He growled, using the wall at his back to pull himself up. "I can take care of things myself." He continued as he slipped his shirt on, the lies in his words reassurance to himself that he was good enough a hunter to get by on his own. "You belong at school with all the other blue collar kids that..."

"Take care of things, huh?" Sam cut in, instantly silencing his brother. "Taking police on a high speed chase and crashing the Impala doesn't sound like you're taking care of things to me. Dad's gonna kill you when he finds out what you did to his car."

"It's not his car, it's mine." Dean replied, reaching down to grab his boots as he watched Bobby take a look around the room.

"Since when?" Sam continued without missing a beat.

"Since you ditched us for school." Dean said as he laced up his boots. "Dad's got a truck now."

"He's still going to kill you."

"That's enough." Bobby chimed in, his own father's tone of voice breaking through for only a moment. "Grab your things and let's go, there's cops scouring the river banks for you just a few miles down the road from here."

"Why are they..."

"Because that's where they think you and the car ended up, ya idgit." Bobby was quick to reply, watching as Dean finally straightened out. "The road washed out during the storm last night and when the cop that was trailing you lost sight, he assumed you went into the drink."

There was another moment of silence as Dean's gaze drifted from Bobby to Sam. Though he knew they were there to help he wasn't willing or ready to accept it. This was still his mess and he was determined to clean it up. "You guys go on, I'll stick around here and see if I can't get the car..."

"The Impala isn't going anywhere until I get a tow truck & winch out here, and I ain't doing that until those cops clear out and declare you dead."

"Bobby this is my mess." Dean hissed, catching Sam by surprise. "And I'm going to sort it out by..."

"I'm not asking if you want to join us, I'm telling you." The veteran hunter cut in, instantly regretting the tone of his voice as he watched Dean's eye hit the ground at his feet. When it dawned on him what the problem was, the angst that had filled that room was hard for him to miss. Dean had just reached a pivotal point in his life and he was now caught between the teenager John lugged around as backup and the man he could count on and trust. Bobby let out a sigh as he readjusted his hat. "Listen, I know you want fix this and prove yourself to everyone, but sometimes you're just gonna need the help. Doesn't make you any less of a man or a hunter." He calmly started, turning to make his way towards the door. "Now come on, we're going to go back to my place so I can take a look at that wound and call your dad to..."

"Please don't call him."

Bobby paused in his steps as he once again turned to face Dean. He was almost surprised not to see the fifteen year old he'd just heard standing there.

"Whatever you do please don't call dad." Dean continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not till I figure out what I'm gonna do."

Sam sucked in a breath as he waited for Bobby's reply to such a desperate plea. He could recall moments like this from his childhood and watching it play out in front of him was like having a flashback. Just like when they were kids, Dean was begging Bobby to keep some kind of secret from their father. John didn't know what kind of things he and his brother did when they were ditched at Bobby's place for a couple of days. Times they spent working in the scrap yard instead of target practice and fishing instead of doing research. He didn't know for sure if Bobby had kept all those secrets but the fact that Dean hadn't been skinned alive for some of the stunts he'd pulled made Sam think that maybe the veteran hunter really had kept to himself.

"Please don't call him." Dean repeated, swallowing hard as he put a hand up to the wound in his side. "I'll tell him myself when all else fails." He said, his voice now belonging to man rather than a desperate and fearful child. "But give me some time."

"All right fine." Bobby replied, grabbing the duffle bag from the nearby chair. "I ain't gonna tell your dad but you will. You've got two days, Dean." Watching as Bobby made his way out of the one room shack, leaving Dean frozen in place, Sam couldn't help but feel the weight on his shoulders. "Dean, I'm sorry I brought him into this but you needed help and I didn't what to do, who else to call." Sam started, as his older brother turned slightly to catch his eyes.

"You didn't have to do anything, Sam. I can take care of myself." Dean growled under his breath, grabbing his leather jacket and following the veteran hunter out the door.

Sam's hands clenched into fists as he watched his older brother walk away, for a second he could have sworn he'd just caught a glimpse of their father. Both were just as determined, bullheaded and stubborn, too proud to ask for help when anyone could see that they were in over their heads. "I just wanted to help, Dean." He called out, following his brother out into the woods.

"If you wanted to help then you should have just stayed out of it." Dean hissed without missing a stride.

"Dude what is your problem?" Sam shouted, picking up the pace to catch up. "Do you really expect me to sit back while you go out there and..."

"You left for school, Sam." Dean spat, turning to face his younger brother and doing what he could to hide just how much he'd been hurt by that move.

"What do you care what I do now that we don't work together?"

"You're still my brother." Sam was quick to reply, standing his ground as Dean took a step towards him.

"Yeah, only when the family name doesn't drag you down."

"Alright that's enough." Bobby cut in as he reached out to grab Dean by the shirt, pulling him away from Sam before words turned into punches.

"He's the one that..."

"I don't care who started it, I said that was enough." Bobby growled as he pushed Dean away. "You want to be treated like a man, then I suggest you start acting like one and let it go." There was a moment of silence and as he pointed Dean towards the crashed Impala with one hand, he turned to Sam with the other.

"I didn't do anything..." Sam started, instantly silencing as Bobby caught his eyes.

"Lay off him, I know you're trying to help but the last thing he needs right now, is to have you in his face." Bobby was quick to explain, watching as the younger man's eyes momentarily drifted over his shoulder.

"He's being a dick, because he's angry that I walked away from all of this."

"He's not angry, he's jealous." Bobby cut in, his revelation obviously catching Sam by surprise.

"What?"

"He's jealous." Bobby repeated, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at Dean, as the other man opened the Impala's trunk to gather the rest of his things. "You might not see it now and he may never let you see it but when you left for school and left him alone to fight with your dad..." Bobby trailed off as the night a distraught Dean showed up on his doorstep suddenly came to mind. Bloody and bruised from the fight, he'd taken a few punches just to prove that he was alive that night, a desperate attempt to link emotion to pain. With no words to offer that could have helped, Bobby had watched him drink the night away, offering an ear while Dean rambled about a life he both loved and loathed. "It hurt him." Bobby went on, his tone of voice dropping as the memory played like a broken record in the back of his mind. The harder they are, the harder they really do fall. "He resents you Sam, cause you had the balls to stand up to your old man, and he doesn't. What your dad thinks of him, just matters so much." Bobby paused again as he shook his head. "Dean doesn't want our help, he wants to deal with this alone because he's trying to prove that he can stand on his own. Your dad just isn't making it easy on him."

"I never thought of it that way." Sam quietly replied, his gaze once again drifting over to the older brother he'd always looked up to.

"Here, go help him pack his stuff." Bobby started as he passed Sam the small duffle bag he'd been holding. "I'll go up to the truck to get a tarp." He continued, changing the subject. Sam gave him a nod before taking the duffle from his hand and turning to make his way towards Dean. As he started walking up the hill to his truck, Bobby couldn't help but let his thoughts run wild. Though he'd never had children of his own, he'd spent enough time raising John's kids to know and learn the ups & down of fatherhood. Sam was trying to help but there was nothing he could say or do that would lift the weight on Dean's shoulders. Dean kept to himself because that's what he was supposed to do, that's what was expected of him and putting the burden on his younger brother's shoulder was just something he couldn't do. He cared for that kid more than he should have and as far as Bobby could tell, sometimes that meant keeping him at arm's length just to keep him safe. Which is what he thought he'd witnessed while they were arguing. He grabbed the green tarp from the box of his truck and started making his way back down the hill towards the Impala, still amazed that it had made it so far down the slope before coming to a stop. Though they hadn't spoken in two years, the brothers had little to say to each other as Dean packed his clothes into one duffle bag and Sam loaded a few of the weapons into another.

"You think it's an easy fix?" Dean asked, setting his duffle bag down as the older man approached.

"Shouldn't be too bad." Bobby replied as Dean took a corner of the tarp and they spread it across the front of the car to cover the cracked windshield. "You're lucky you didn't roll it." He continued, ignoring the glare he received as he placed a rock on the edge of the tarp to weight it down. "Cop I spoke to said you were just flying down that road."

There was a moment of silence as Dean reached down to grab a log, using to weight down his corner. "Rolling my car is the least of my worries right now." He replied without looking up.

"Yeah, you sure got that right."


	4. One mistake and one misstep

**CHAPTER 4 - One mistake and one misstep**

"You really think those cops wont spot the Impala from the road?" Sam asked as he watched Bobby carefully peel back the bandage Dean had placed to cover his wound the night before. Growing up in motel rooms across America and spending much of their time in the Impala, Bobby's house was the only actual home the pair had ever known. Unlike everything else around them, nothing ever seemed to change or even move at Bobby's house. The living room they were in still looked like it did when they were kids.

"She's pretty far down that embankment." Bobby replied, pausing as Dean swore under his breath, his fingernails digging into the old wooden chair he was straddling. "Besides, they're looking in the wrong place which should keep them busy for a while." He continued as he peeled the bandage free.

"But I noticed the tire tracks on the shoulder of the road." Sam continued as Bobby knelt down next to Dean to study the wound.

"Like I said, they're looking in the wrong place." Bobby repeated. "They think the car went into the water, actually, they're pretty sure that the car went into the water." Bobby paused again as Dean tensed up, his back straightening as he braced himself for the worse. "Would you just suck it up?" He asked, their eyes meeting for only a moment. "I haven't even touched you yet." He said as he grabbed the bottle of peroxide from the small table beside him. Dean swallowed hard as he felt the air dragging across his flesh, just like the night before when the soft breeze had felt like pins and needles trailing through his skin. When Bobby pressed the peroxide soaked cloth up to the wound, he couldn't help but let his head drop to his folded arms, his eyes instantly shutting as the pain quickly spread.

"You're lucky you didn't bleed out." Bobby remarked, his voice as rough as his calloused hands. "What the hell did you do to yourself anyway?" He asked, setting the cloth down and leaning in to take a better look at the mess of a wound. "That don't look like no bullet hole I ever seen."

Dean sucked in a breath as he tried to calm his racing heart and keep his eyes from tearing up. "It wouldn't stop bleeding so I cauterized it."

"You did what?" Sam asked, hoping that he hadn't heard his brother just say that.

"I cauterized it." Dean replied with a grin to the corner of his lips as he caught Sam's look of disgust. "I heated a silver blade on the stove and used it to..."

"Dude that's just wrong." Sam cut in as he straightened out, the sight of blood covering the seat in the Impala flashing in the back of his mind.

"Can't exactly go to the hospital." Dean went on. "I am a wanted man and it would have been way to awkward a spot to stitch it up myself."

"You could have come here." Bobby was quick to reply as he caught the young hunter's eyes.

"I might have if I knew where I was heading and there wasn't a cop car on my ass." Dean said, sucking in another breath as Bobby once again pressed the soaked cloth to the wound. "I somehow doubt you'd want a cop show up at your doorstep anyway."

"About that, you want to explain to me how you ended up on their radar in the first place?" Bobby asked, pulling away for a moment as Dean swore under his breath, his muscles tensing as a jolt of pain took over.

"Not really no." Dean muttered.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Let me try that one again." He said, his stern tone of voice hard to miss as it echoed off the living room walls. "How'd you..."

"About a week ago Dad and I worked a case out in some small town, middle of nowhere Wyoming." Dean recalled, looking over to catch his younger brother's eyes. "Half a dozen Shapeshifters we'd been trailing turned up there, ready to take advantage of another small town off the beaten path and then move on."

"I ain't ever heard of Shapeshifters working in groups." Bobby remarked as he studied the wound. Though the concept of Dean cauterizing it himself was almost barbaric, he had to admit, for the kid to have done it with what little he had, he'd done a decent job.

"Yeah that's exactly what Dad said." Dean was quick to reply. "But these things were smarter than any other Shifter I've ever hunted and I mean real smart. They shed their skins just to cover their tracks and they singled out folks they could use to get ahead and get what they wanted. It's like they were using these people's faces as getaway cars, riding them to the next town over and then ditching them for someone else. And I'm not just talking your average Joes here, I'm talking bank managers, doctors, lawyers, cops." He paused for only a moment as the details of the case circles in his head. "They weren't killing anyone at first, just borrowing their looks but then bodies started to surface and every time Dad got a new lead on where they were, they'd be gone by the time we got there."

"Tracking a Shifter can be pretty hard when they're well adjusted to the way we live" Bobby added as he started to redress the young hunter's wound. "They keep their heads down and stay away from the people they're mirroring they could pass off as almost anyone."

"Till the body count rises." Dean replied, his muttered words almost lost in the moment of silence. "Not sure how he did it but Dad worked out a pattern and sure enough, one town over, they were going through the same motion so we made our move. There was five of them in all; the first one was easy to put down because they had no idea we'd finally caught up to them, but once the others realized we were around... We knew we had to move fast before they shed their skin and skipped town, so Dad and I split up to track 'em down." Dean paused for only a moment as he recalled the one hunt that had gotten away from him. It wasn't the first time but considering all the circumstances involved, it was by far the worse. "Dad of course had his two down within the hour but mine slipped through my fingers and I lost track of them." He explained, still hearing his father's voice ringing in his ears. "That didn't exactly go over well with him."

Sam listened intently, taking notice of the expression on his older brother's face as he trudged through the series of events that had led to the police chase. Their father could be hard on them this he knew for a fact but watching Dean slouch down as he spoke, his shoulders hunching as he revisited what Sam could only assume had been the speech of a lifetime, it was easy to see that his older brother wasn't dealing with their father's constant criticism quite as well as he was pretending to be while they were growing up.

"They traded skins with some of the locals down at some bar I'd followed them into." Dean continued, shaking his head as he analyzed every single detail. "Sons of bitches probably walked right by me." He paused for a moment as he felt the pain begin to spread, lost in his memories he'd almost forgotten that Bobby was still tending to his wound. "Dad and I regrouped at the motel room and decided that I'd hang back to handle the two Shifters that were still in town while he moved on to go check out our next job. So I did some digging around, it took two days but I eventually found out that this one couple was in two places at the same time, footage from a gas station security camera confirmed they were the Shifters. So I tracked them, followed them to this quiet little house on the outskirts of town." Dean swallowed the lump caught in the back of his throat. In his mind it was all still so vivid. "The door wasn't locked so I let myself in, gun in hand I made my way down a hallway, I was hoping to catch them by surprise but I'm the one who was caught off guard. One of them jumped me from behind, I swear it came out of nowhere. I managed to fight it off and it bolted for the back door so I fired a couple of rounds. I know I hit it at least once but it took off into the woods behind the home before I got a clear shot. So I walked back through the house looking for the other one and that's when I found the bodies."

Dean paused again as the grisly scene played out in flashbacks. It's not the murder of those two innocent people that was weighing him down it was the fact that he had been a mere seconds too late to save them. "Two bodies, a husband & wife and one big pile of goo." He continued. "The one I chased out the back door hadn't shed its skin yet but the other one had, so I searched the house to find out what I could about the victim it was mirroring. The woman was a Sheriff and I hadn't realized it yet but while I chased her partner out the back door, she'd slipped out the front and left in a damn cop car that must have been parked in the garage. Like I said, that Shifter was smart. I went back to the motel room and turned my police scanner on, figured that someone was going to place a call about some guy walking around covered in blood and someone did. Police were dispatched to a warehouse on the other side of the wooded area the Shifter had gone into, the alarm system had gone off and a motorist called in about an injured man walking on the side of the road."

"So you went down there to look for it." Sam said as he watched Bobby straighten out from his older brother's side.

Dean offered a nod. "Yeah, beat the cops there too but I had a badge on me just in case they showed up." Dean explained. "I did a quick walk through but I couldn't find the thing, lots of places for it to hide in there. Then I heard a car pull up outside, took a quick look and spotted the marked cruiser behind the Impala. So I grabbed my badge and made my way over, then she stepped out of her car." Dean sucked in a breath as he felt his heart jump back up into his throat all over again. "She took a few steps towards me and all of a sudden just as she reached for her service weapon, I realized that I'd seen her face before, I'd seen her body on the floor of that house. I knew it was the Shapeshifter so I opened fire."

"Which is what her dash cam captured." Sam remarked. Watching as his brother got up and stretched, he couldn't help but notice the cut below his lip, the ones above his eye, the dark bruise across his chest and the scrapes along his knuckles. Now that Dean had mentioned the fight, he could see all the signs but wondered if had been the Shifter or the car crash that had left them.

"How come the cops didn't file a report or release mentioning the two murders?" Bobby asked as he wiped his hands clean. "They don't find it strange that this one woman was killed twice?"

"That house was pretty remote, there wasn't another one on that road for miles." Dean replied as he reached for his duffle bag and pulled out a clean shirt. "Those bodies probably haven't been found yet. Not sure what they'll think once they do find them though."

"You leave that to me then, I've got an old friend who owes me a favor or two." Bobby said with a smile to the corner of his lips.

"I knew it wasn't the best move but it was either her or me and she'd already slipped through my fingers twice. The other one was still inside but I knew better than to wait around. I assume the Shifter I'd just put down heard what I did over the police scanner, so the real cops that were dispatched weren't actually there yet. I didn't know what to do so I jumped into the Impala and got the hell out of there, drove for a couple of hours and then stopped in a small town called Scythe not too far from here. I just needed a drink." He admitted, still struggling to deal with the turn of events that had thrust him into the spotlight. "When I was leaving the bar I walked to the Impala and just as I opened the door to get in, another cop pulled up. He flew out his car with his gun drawn, ordered me to put my hands on my head and turn around. I knew he wouldn't believe a word I had to say, no one would."

"So you took off." Sam replied simply, still trying to put himself in his older brother's shoes. It was easy to think of a better way to handle a situation when you weren't the one actually facing it head on.

"I was already at the Impala, my door was open so I jumped in and took off. He fired a couple of shots and then got into his cruiser to give chase, and well, you know the rest." Dean trailed off as his eyes focused on the blood stained shirt on the floor at his feet, even the jeans he was wearing were smeared red from the night before.

"Well now you're here with us while we figure this out." Bobby started, a reassuring voice breaking the angst filled moment of silence. "You go on and take a shower then I'll switch that bandage again once you towel off, it's still bleeding a bit."

When the phone in his pocket started to ring Sam couldn't help but jump in his seat, the sound catching him by surprise. "Shit, Jess." He muttered to himself, a promise he'd made the day before instantly coming to mind.

"Who's Jess?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as his younger brother got up.

"Just a friend." Sam was quick to reply. "I told her I'd call but I forgot that I was..."

"Dude if she's calling cause you forgot, that sounds more like a girlfriend than just a..."

"Go take a shower." Bobby cut in, pointing Dean down the hall as he headed into the kitchen to give Sam a bit of privacy.

Pulling the cell phone from his pocket, Sam couldn't help but pause as his eyes caught the number that was displayed. It was a number he recognized but one he never thought he'd see again. "Dad." He muttered under his breath, the flood of mixed emotions overtaking him in an instant. He didn't know where to start or what to say. He knew Dean wanted to keep their father out of it but he couldn't just sit back and keep quiet either. Though still furious with the man over the argument they had the night he announced he was leaving for school and the fact that he'd left Dean alone to deal with a hunt they'd started together, Sam knew he had to keep his cool. Because this wasn't about them or the animosity they shared, this was all about helping Dean. Swallowing hard, Sam picked up the call with a halfhearted but failed attempt to keep the anger and frustration out of his voice. "Where the hell have you been?" He asked, his tone of voice dry as he started to pace the floor of Bobby's cluttered living room. "I must have called you half a dozen times!"

_"I'm sorry Sam but I've been hunting a Wendigo out in the backwoods of Colorado, somewhere near Salida. Reception has been hit and miss in these parts."_ John replied, already feeling the hostility coming in over the line. It had been two years since they last spoke, so it was good to hear his youngest sons voice again, even if the tone of it was sharp. Though he loved both his boys Dean had always been easier to deal with, mostly because he did as he was told, and he never really talked back. Sam on the other hand, well Sam asked too many questions and was so outspoken that they often butt heads. _"Are you alright? Something wrong at school?"_

"I'm just fine Dad thanks for checking in." Sam was quick to reply. "But what I really want to know right now is why you left Dean behind to hunt down a Shapeshifter on his own."

John couldn't help but let out a sigh, he should have known there was a reason why Sam had called and it wasn't to admit he'd been wrong in going off to school._ "Why'd I leave Dean behind to hunt down a Shapshifter on his own?"_ He asked, repeating the question only to give himself a moment because he knew what was to follow, would surely be an onslaught of words. _"Because it was his to deal with, Sam." _He simply replied._ "This isn't really any of your concern anymore."_

"Just because I left for school, it doesn't mean that I left this family!" Sam spat, his anger beginning to seep through as an old wound started to open. "How could you just dump a case like this on Dean!?" He asked without a pause, thinking back to all the times he and his brother had been left behind to clean up the mess and tie off loose ends. "After all the time you spend with him, can't you tell when he needs your help dealing with..."

_"He's twenty four Sam and he's been hunting his whole life. He doesn't need my help with every single job."_ John snapped, his own anger starting to surface as he went on the defensive. _"Since when do the two of you talk cases anyway?"_ He asked, leaving Sam no time to reply._ "A Shapeshifter's an easy job, you drop the damn thing with silver bullets. I didn't dump this case on Dean, he's the one who told me that he'd take care of it because he knows he should have handle it the first time around! So don't you give me attitude about what you think I should have done; if you wouldn't have..."_

"Oh he took care of it." Sam interrupted, one hand clenching into a fist as the other tightened around his cell phone. "That Shapeshifter was an easy job until it started walking around as a Sheriff." Sam growled, taking a quick look towards the closed kitchen door as he heard Bobby move around in the other room. "Dean dropped it alright, but because of what the dash mounted camera from her car captured, now there's a warrant out for his arrest and his face is all over the news! As far as everyone else is concerned, he didn't put down a Shifter, he shot dead a Sheriff in cold blood. So while you were out in the woods hunting a Wendigo, he was trying to keep the cops off his ass! I know you think that he should handle this on his own because it's his mess, but have you ever stopped to think for a moment that maybe you're putting too much pressure on him?" Sam asked, the bitter words reflecting how he felt after witnessing time and again, how his brother yearned for their father's approval but never really got it. "Dean tries so damn hard to live up to your expectations, to be the man you want him to be, yet you NEVER, EVER let him know that he's doing a good job or that you're even proud of him. Do you have any idea what kind of weight you put on his shoulders? Now he's in way over his head and because of the way you've always treated him, he would drown before he asks for your help. Heaven forbid he let you down or disappoints you in any way." Sam hissed, unable to hold back the anger that had been smoldering for years. Dean may not have been able to stand up to their father and tell him how he felt but he could and he was determined to make their Dad realize that his older brother needed help he'd been conditioned never to ask for. "Dean is so hung up on trying to prove himself that now he's at Bobby's place, against his will might I add, trying to come up with some plan to clear his name or get out of this on his own. He's already been shot once, led the cops on a high speed chase through the woods and..."

_"Sammy, what the Hell are you talking about_?" John interrupted, finally getting a word into his youngest son's barrage. _"Dean's here in Colorado with me."_

Those words made Sam stop dead in his tracks, all the anger he'd been harboring instantly turned to both panic and fear. "What did you just say?" He asked, his voice softening as the lump in his throat grew.

_"I said Dean's here with me."_


	5. Once bitten, twice shy

**CHAPTER 5 - Once bitten twice shy  
**

_"Dean and I met up yesterday after he'd finished the job in Wyoming."_ John explained without missing a beat.

"Dad that's not him it's one of them." Sam was quick to reply, his heart beginning to race as he went over all the details in his head. "Dean said that one of them had gotten away from him, that must be..."

_"Do you honestly think I wouldn't notice the difference between a damn Shapeshifter and my own son?"_ John barked, his eyes glancing over towards the small cabin in the woods where Dean was still asleep. _"He came on the hunt with me Sam, just like he always does. You're the one who's got a Shifter taking you for a ride."_

"No Dad, you do." Sam growled, his eyes glancing up as the kitchen door slid open, his tone of voice enough to draw Bobby back into the room. "I called while the cops where chasing him down, he ditched the Impala outside of Scythe, Bobby & I picked him up this morning. He's here with us."

_"Sam, the Impala's at a shop here in town. Your brother bent a rim on his way over and the one they found for it is at a wrecking yard two days away."_ John continued._ "We spent yesterday hunting down a Wendigo while we wait for the part to come in."_

"Dad I'm telling you that thing isn't Dean. I know we don't get along but you've got to believe me, trust me for once." Sam pleaded, catching Bobby's eyes for only a moment.

_"Son, you've been away from this for two years now. I think you're loosing your instinct, you're..."_

"He used a silver blade to cauterize his wound." Sam cut in, trying to think of something he could say that would convince the other man.

_"Shifter's lie, Sam. Listen..."_

"NO, YOU LISTEN!" Sam shouted, once again cutting his father short. "I'm telling you that he's here at Bobby's with me."

_"And I'm telling you that he's here in Colorado with me!"_ John hissed.

Bobby could almost feel the mix of anger and panic radiating off Sam as he argued with his father over the phone. Both were just as bullheaded as the other an he knew the conversation would go nowhere, despite the fact that one of them was right and the other one was dead wrong. "Give me the phone." He demanded, reaching out towards the younger man infront of him.

Frustrated that their own father couldn't tell the difference between a Shifter and his son, Sam didn't hesitate passing his cell phone over to Bobby.

"John..." Bobby started, pausing as he listened to the static hiss on the other end of the line. "John?" He asked, waiting for a response but getting nothing but white noise. "The call must have dropped." He announced as he passed the phone back to Sam.

"Now what the hell are we supposed to do?" Sam asked as he started to pace, passing a nervous hand through his hair. "Dad's pretty sure that we're the ones with a damn shifter on our hands."

"Well Dean might have said he used a silver blade on his wound but it could have easily been lying if it wasn't him."

"You can't be serious." Sam spat, turning on the spot to face the veteran hunter.

"I ain't saying your daddy's right, Sam. I'm just saying that we don't know for sure."

"Don't know for sure about what?" Dean asked as he came down the stairs, casually toweling his hair dry.

* * *

John looked down at his cell phone for a moment before flipping it shut with frustration, reception once again getting away from him out in the middle of nowhere. He passed a hand over his face, Sam's words circling in his head as his gaze drifted back towards the small seasonal cabin he and Dean were squatting in. Though he could almost hear the certainty in his youngest son's voice, it wasn't enough to convince him that the man sleeping off a night at the bar wasn't his oldest son. No one knew Dean better than he did, hell that kid had hung onto his every word since he was old enough to hold his own shotgun. Needless to say if anyone could spot the difference between a Shapeshifter and Dean, it was him.

John swore to himself as he started to pace. If Dean was there with him, that meant that the Shifter they'd been trailing was at Bobby's with Sam. He paused in his steps, feeling his heart begin to race as he went over the conversation he'd just had with Sam. If the damn thing had managed to trick them both, there was no telling what it was capable of. He had to get to Bobby's place, before the unthinkable happened.

Turning on his heels he made his way back towards the small cabin, climbing the few steps in a leap and letting himself in. Dean was still asleep in his bed, the sound of boots on the hard floor not enough to wake him as John approached. "Dean get up." He barked, reaching over to slap his oldest son's legs with one hand as he grabbed his duffle bag with the other. Shoving his clothes into his duffle he took a quick look over his shoulder as the younger man let out a groan. "Get up Dean." He repeated, his voice echoing in the room.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dean starred at him for a moment before letting out a yawn. "Why are you packing, the car's still in the shop and..."

"We've got to go." John started, cutting the other man short as he gathered his things from the small dingy room. "Bobby and your brother might be in trouble." He explained, without looking over as Dean finally sat up.

"Sammy's in trouble?" Dean asked as he crawled out of bed. "What kind of trouble?" He asked watching as his father hurried to pack what little possessions he had.

"That group of Shifter's we took out, the one's you stayed behind to finish off." John said, his tone of voice almost dry. "Well looks like you missed one and now it's turned up at Bobby's place. Whatever the reason, the damn thing called Sam."

"Why would Bobby let a Shapeshifter into..."

"Because they think it's you." John cut in, pausing just long enough to catch his son's eyes. "The damn thing is walking around as you." There was a moment of silence and as John went back to packing, Dean grabbed his clothes. "You obviously let one of 'em slip through your fingers again." He growled without missing a beat. "If you want to do this job, then you're going to have to do it right." He continued. "You can't walk away from a hunt till you're sure that the job is done."

"I wouldn't have left if I knew there was still one out there, it's not my fault those things shed fast." Dean defended as he slipped his shirt on.

"Doesn't matter Dean, you should have been faster." John replied, grabbing his gun and tossing it onto the bed. "I'll start loading the truck, you start loading clips with silver rounds." He announced, throwing his duffle bag over one shoulder as he dropped a small case filled with silver bullets onto the bed. "I want to get out to Bobby's as soon as possible." He said as he headed out the door.

* * *

"Not sure about what?" Dean repeated, the obvious limp in his step hard to miss as he joined Sam and Bobby in the living room.

Bobby caught Sam's eyes for only a moment as he palmed a silver blade from the desk behind him. "Dad called." Sam started, watching as his brother tossed his towel aside and made his way towards a chair. "He's still in Colorado on that case but according to him, you're over there too."

There was a moment of silence as Dean's gaze drifted from Sam to Bobby before settling on the silver blade tucked in the veteran hunter's grip. "And you think I'm the Shifter?" He started, watching as Bobby took a step forward. "Why the hell do you think I'm a damn Shapeshifter?" He asked, well aware that both men were now analyzing his every move.

"We don't." Sam calmly replied, thinking about how his older brother had reacted when they found him on the floor of an abandoned shack in the woods. The tone of his voice, the anger seeping through his words and the attempt to hide how he truly felt... all these weren't out of character for Dean but then again it wouldn't be hard for a Shapeshifter that had been studying him, to imitate him. The more he thought about it the more doubts he was starting to have but deep down inside, he just knew that the man standing there in front of him was indeed his brother. Their dad was the one who was wrong because not even a clever Shifter could fake the moment Dean had pleaded with Bobby to not call their father.

"We just want to be sure." Bobby started, his voice pulling Dean's eyes away from Sam. "Cause your old man sounded pretty convinced that you were there with him."

"WELL HE'S WRONG!" Dean growled, his words doing little to change the mind of the pair that were starring him down and sizing him up. "This is bullshit!" He spat as he once again turned towards his brother, his eyes instantly narrowing as Bobby held out his silver blade. "As if I don't already have enough crap on my plate to deal with, now you two think I'm a damn Shifter?" There was another moment of silence and though he was angry that the pair would even consider the fact that he might be a Shapeshifter, he knew they could never be too cautious when everything they hunted wanted them dead. He reached out towards Bobby but the older man instinctively pulled away, the weapon still in his tight grip ready to strike. "Give me the damn knife." He demanded, his low tone of voice echoing in the room. "Give me the knife, I'll do it myself!"

Sam watched in silence as Bobby reluctantly handed the silver blade over and then cringed as Dean cut a slice into the palm of his hand, his eyes never leaving Bobby's and his expression never changing. It was something their father would have done and just like their father, Dean didn't hesitate or flinch.  
"There, are you both satisfied or should I make another pass?" He asked wiping the blood from the blade onto his towel, before stabbing the knife into the corner of the desk in front of him.

"Works for me." Bobby answered reaching over to grab his blade as Dean wrapped the towel around his bloody hand.

"Good, can we start trying to figure out where Dad is now?" Dean asked drily as he caught his younger brother's eyes.

"I've already tried calling him back but he mentioned that reception was bad, so I don't think we'll be able to reach him." Sam answered, unable to hold his brother's piercing stare.

"Then use the GPS from his phone to track him down." Dean continued, walking over to one of the many maps that were hanging on the wall of Bobby's living room. "I know he's in Colorado, we were supposed to meet up at a gas station, The Crossroads I think it was called, and the Wendigo he was hunting was somewhere in the foothills of..."

"Dean I know you want to track him down." Bobby cut in. "But your old man sounded pretty convinced that you were already with him, so if that's the case he's probably on his way over here with his gun loaded, thinking we're the ones who need help dealing with this Shifter."

"So what the hell do you suggest we do?" Dean growled, turning to face the veteran hunter. "Sit on our hands and hope he shows up in one piece, if he even shows up at all? There's a reason that Shapeshifter tracked him to Colorado and I don't think it was to join him on the hunt for a Wendigo or to spend some quality time with the guy that killed off half its gang."

"If it wanted Dad dead it would have killed him already." Sam quietly replied, knowing all too well that his words would only fuel a fire in Dean that neither him nor Bobby could seem to control. His older brother had been pushed to the very edge and the more his ordeal dragged on, the closer he seemed to be getting to his breaking point.

"Then what the hell does it want?" Dean continued, his anger and frustration fusing together. He started to pace as his mind started to wander. Still struggling to find a way out of the mess he'd created with the cops, now he was left trying to figure out what the one that'd gotten away wanted with his father. "If it's not after Dad what does it want?"

"You." Sam answered, the simple reply bringing his brother to a sudden stop. "It wants you."

"They all do." Dean shrugged without giving it a second thought.

"No, I mean it's not after Dad it's after you." The younger man was quick to explain. "It knows Dad would eventually get a call from you, so it's waiting for that call to figure out where you are."

"Sam that makes no sense." Dean muttered, unwrapping the towel from around his hand to take a look at the fresh wound. "Besides it's a fifty-fifty chance Dad figures out that I'm not the one actually there with him."

"Is it really?" Sam asked, ignoring the smirk he got as a response. "If those things were as fast and smart as you said they were, then maybe the thing knew how easily it could slip by Dad."

There was a moment of silence and Bobby couldn't help but take it to his advantage as he watched Dean try to make sense of his little brother's sudden revelation. Though relatively calm all things considered, even a blind man could have seen that the fact John hadn't realized he wasn't there at his side, was eating Dean alive. "I think we should wait a few hours to see if your Dad shows up." He started, trying to clear the explosive mix of emotions that was hanging in the air. "If that Shapeshifter is just using your Dad to narrow down its search for you, then it's going to tag along till he gets here. If John does show up, we ambush it, if he doesn't, then we'll go to him."

There was another moment of silence and Dean let out a sigh. "Alright fine." He grumbled under his breath, his gaze drifting down to the cut in his hand. "What are we supposed to do all day?"

"I'm going to go down to the washout and see if they've given up on you yet. The two of you are going to stay here and track down your dad using the GPS from his phone, in case we do need to go find him and get the guns ready with silver bullets in case we don't." Bobby replied, grabbing a badge from the top of a bookcase nearby. "Oh and Sam, there's a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon in the fridge, make sure he eats something." He said as pointed towards Dean on his way out of the living room.

The pair glanced at each other for only a moment before Sam pushed off from the cluttered desk he'd been leaning against. "Well you heard the man, what kind of eggs do you want?" He asked, watching as his older brother fished through the open first aid kit for a bandage.

"I really don't care." Dean quietly replied, his mind still otherwise occupied as he reluctantly followed the other man into the kitchen and took a seat at the small table.

"Over-Easy it is then." Sam said, pulling the fridge door open to grab what he needed. Dean had always been the one who did the cooking growing up, because their father was barely there and he'd always been told he was too young to work the stove. Even though most meals consisted of some sort of canned goods heated in a pot with little preparation needed, it was often better than the fast food their Dad always showed up with. Sam couldn't help but let the smile creep up from the corner of his lips as he turned the burner on and placed a pan on the stovetop, letting it heat up a little before starting on the bacon. The only time he ever cooked for Dean was when his older brother wasn't feeling well or the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

Dean sucked in a breath, resting his head in his hand as he watched his younger brother prepare a meal. He'd been so busy with the hunt that he hadn't eaten in days. It'd been two years since they spent any time together and Dean couldn't help but notice just how much his little brother had grown and matured since then. Perhaps leaving the life had been a step in the right direction, after all Sam did seem quite at home in Bobby's kitchen as much as he did while working a case. "What's it like, Sammy?" He asked, watching as Sam turned slightly to catch his eyes. "Having your own place, going to school?"

"It's great Dean." Sam replied, caught off guard by his brother's question. "I do what I want when I want, hang out with the friends I made at school. I even got a job so I can save up and move out of the student residence. If things go well, I think Jessica and I are going to get our own apartment near the campus." He paused for only a moment as the thought of the life he was living, and the one his brother was currently being dragged through. Though no one was forcing him to stay, Sam knew Dean would never be able to just pick up and leave like he had done. Loyalty ran much too deep for that and their father's respect meant far too much. "You know, you could still go back to school if you wanted to." He quietly started, turning his attention back to the bacon sizzling in the pan as Dean straightened out in his chair, his eyes surely rolling at the mention of school. "We could get you enrolled in something you enjoy doing, maybe even get you started on earning your mechanic's license, or maybe even a welder's..."

"Dude I dropped out of high school remember?" Dean cut in, instantly silencing his brother. "I don't even have enough credits to get the damn diploma, what college is going to want some twenty-four year old high school drop out?"

"It's never too late to finish high school, Dean." Sam calmly replied, forking the bacon out of the pan and onto a plate. "You can do anything you want, any job that you want." Sam continued as he started with the eggs.

"I've already got a job." Dean replied, the gruffness in his voice returning as the reality of his situation rolled in like a storm. "Might not be the easiest thing to do or one of the most honest but it saves lives so that better people, normal people, can keep their happy, apple-pie boring way of life. Besides, Dad needs me."

Sam bit his tongue as his brother's words echoed in his head. The only thing their dad really needed Dean for, was to have someone to lean on and take the emotional punches of a life filled with anger and regret.

"Do you even miss it?" Dean asked as Sam grabbed a plate.

"Parts of it." Sam replied simply. "I miss seeing the country, meeting so many different people and spending time with you. Can't say I miss walking around waist deep in blood, monsters and bodies. I mean if you really think about it, we only see folks in some of their darkest hours." He answered, sliding the eggs onto the plate and reaching out to place it on the table in front of his brother. "Here, eat this and then after we're done we'll try tracking Dad's phone to see where he was staying."

Dean glanced down at his plate as Sam placed the bowl of bacon down in front of him. Extra crispy, just the way he liked it. Though leaving the job like Sam had done had crossed his mind before, he knew deep down inside that it was something that would never happen. It was practically a pipe dream because he was so well anchored into the life, it would be next to impossible for him to go out and live a normal life. At twenty-four, having been raised the way that he was, Dean knew he was far from being normal. It may have been too late for him but watching as his younger brother flipped his eggs in the pan, he couldn't help but smile, happy that it hadn't been too late for Sam.

* * *

"Ready to go?" John asked, stepping back into the cabin and pausing as he eyed the empty room. "Dean?" He called out, his eyes falling on the case of silver bullets that sat right where he had dropped it on the bed. Though the lid was open, not a single bullet was missing and the gun he'd placed on bed beside it was no longer there. "Dean?" He called out again, his gaze drifting over towards the bathroom area. Though he waited and listened for a reply, it was the creaking sound of the door shutting behind him that caught his attention. John turned on the spot, his eyes catching those of the young man standing there behind him. "Dean what the hell are you doing, we need to hit the road."

"Guess again old man." The Shapeshifter replied with a grin as it loaded the gun in its hand. "You're not going anywhere."


	6. You make the bed you lie in

**CHAPTER 6 - You make the bed you lie in**

John felt his heart jump to his throat as he eyed the barrel of the gun in who he'd thought was his son's hand. How could he have missed this? After spending years training and working with Dean, how could he have possibly mistaken a Shapeshifter for his own son? He was as ashamed as he was surprised, Sam had been right and he was the one who'd somehow been wrong. "What do you want?" He calmly started, eyeing the gun as he took a steady step back.

"What do I want?" It repeated with a sinister smile. "I want to see you and that damn kid of yours get ripped to shreds." There was a moment of silence as the Shifter locked the door. "You know what it's like to watch your friends, your family get gunned down one by one?" It asked, watching as John took another step back.

"Actually I do." The hunter replied, looking for something, anything within his reach he could use to defend himself. Though the case of silver bullets was still open on the bed behind him, throwing them at an armed Shapshifter seemed kind of pointless. If anything that would just piss it off. His gaze drifted over to the duffle bag that was open on the table nearby, his silver blade was in there but it was as close to the Shapeshifter as it was within his reach.

"We were fine. We didn't cause any trouble, laid low and kept our heads down. Then you two showed up." It paused for a moment as it eyed the veteran hunter carefully, reaching over to slide the duffle bag across the table and tossing it onto the counter top behind it. "You showed up and decided that we didn't deserve to live because we're not like the rest of you, we're the ones who are different."

"I showed up because you guys started dropping bodies." John was quick to reply, his heart beginning to race again as he watched what in all appearance, was Dean aiming a gun at him. Reaching for his duffle bag was now out of the question and the only way out of the cabin was the locked door the Shapeshifter was standing in front of. He took a nervous step back as the Shifter took another step forward, closing the little distance there was between them.

"Don't lie to me you pathetic, poor excuse of a man." It suddenly spat, the grip on the gun tightening. "We knew you two were trailing us, the only reason we started dropping bodies was because you were getting too close. We started moving around more, did it in haste and because of that a few lives were lost. You pushed us, rushed us, and then we got desperate. It's amazing what someone does just to fight for their own lives. Wouldn't you agree?"

John came to a stop as he backed into the foot of the bed. "Alright, you've got me were you want me so go ahead and take your shot already." He started, his hands clenching into fists. The confrontation was surreal and though he knew it wasn't Dean there in front of him, his mind couldn't help but drift back to some of the heated arguments he'd had with his oldest son. There were words he regretted and actions that would rank him among some of the worse fathers out there. Dean was as obedient as a well trained dog and compliant as any dedicated soldier, because that's who he was raised and groomed to be. But just like a dog, the animal in him sometimes clawed its way to the surface when he was pushed one time too many. Though the outbursts were few and far between, they were vicious attacks when they did manage to pierce the thick lair of skin on such a young hunter's bones. Thinking it over in his head, John was almost surprised that he had yet to find himself in a similar situation. Starring down the barrel of a gun in an angry Dean's hand. He swallowed hard, snapping back to reality as he struggled to convince himself that his son wasn't the one standing there in front of him. "You want to kill me?" He growled as he straightened out. "Go right ahead, avenge those monsters you call your family. C'mon, get it over with." He pushed, needing to feel the pain he was now sure he deserved.

"You're the one who's a monster." It replied, catching the veteran hunter's eyes. "The things you've done." It started, shaking its head. "The things you've done would put some of the hardest criminals to shame."

John sucked in a breath as those words circled in his head. He wasn't proud of his past but it was something he'd learned to live with because the way things were going, his future would be no different. Tragedy had helped him find his true calling and as dangerous, despicable and even horrendous as it might be, he'd come to accept the fact that this was his life and this is who he was. "Let me put it this way." He replied, his tone of voice low. "My one and only regret is not catching up to you sooner."

"Funny, it should be not knowing the difference between the monsters you hunt and your own damn kids." The Shapeshifter said, offering a smile as it pulled the trigger.

John fell to the floor as he felt the bullet from his own gun, pass through the outside of his right thigh. Painful as it was, he'd been through much worse and knew that it wasn't a kill shot the Shifter wanted, just one that would slow him down. He let out a chuckle, the blood seeping out from around and between his fingers as he applied pressure to the wound with one hand and pulled himself into a sitting position against the table leg with the other. "Is that all you've got?" He asked, the smile creeping up to the corner of his lips for only a moment before the sound of a second gunshot filled the air. The bullet he took to the left shoulder was almost gratifying in a sick and twisted kind of way. It was just the pain he needed to chastise himself for everything he'd done wrong. For the way he'd raised his boys and for the series of events that led up to this very moment, the one that found him on the floor of a cabin at the hands of a Shapeshifter. "Bad shot if I do say so myself." He continued, sucking in a shallow breath as the blood ran down his chest.

"I need you alive, you know that." The Shifter replied with a smirk, reaching over to grab a length of rope from the duffle bag nearby. "For when that son who follows you blindly comes looking for you, and we both know that he will. That is if he isn't already dead." There was a moment of silence and though John did his best to grin through the fear, he knew he was fooling no one. "You screwed up you know, by leaving him behind." It continued, gripping the gun by the barrel as it knelt down to John's eye level. "There were more of us than you thought there was. Class act parenting right there, leave a boy behind to do a man's work." The Shapeshifter growled as it used the butt of the gun to knock the veteran hunter unconscious.

* * *

Bobby watched as the handful of officers left on the scene stood around their police cars, all waiting for the next set of orders. "So you're telling me they still haven't spotted the car?" He asked, eying the river that was no longer overflowing its banks.

"The water level has dropped and we've blocked the river upstream." The lead detective replied, pointing to the backhoe that had been brought in to aid in the search. "There's no car in there and the river's not wide enough for a car of that size to have gone downstream. I'm telling you, if it was in there we would have found it."

Bobby turned to look at the washout, a slight smile to the corner of his lips as he eyed the handful of officers that were standing around. "So you're saying one of your officers chased a car that vanished into thin air? Into the night?" Bobby asked, turning his attention back to the man in front of him.

"Witness's at the bar in Scythe saw one of our officers confront a man that matched the description of a suspect we were looking for." The detective defended. "They saw him discharge his weapon and then give chase down this road. You and I both know that the only place this road leads is to town and we had officers waiting with a spike belt."

"Then where is he?" Bobby demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Where's the car?"

"I don't know." The detective admitted.

"So have you called off the search?" Bobby asked. "Have you declared the guy dead?"

The detective hesitated for a moment as he eyed the washout in the road. "We've called off the search here but until I find a body, it's going to remain an open case."

Bobby offered a nod. "Good luck with that." He said as he turned to leave, doing his best to keep the grin off his face. "Call me if anything turns up."

* * *

"Last call I got from Dad was when he got there." Dean said, glancing up from his phone to catch his brother's eyes from behind his laptop. "That was two days ago." He added, passing the phone to Sam and watching as the younger man typed something in. Sitting among the clutter of Bobby's living room was just like the good old days for Sam and Dean, with the exception of the estrangement they now seemed to share.

"Ok, the signal came from somewhere near Salida, Colorado." Sam started, typing away as Dean walked over to the large map that was hanging on the wall.

"Look's like there's a remote ski resort of some kind in that same area. There's a few cabins that are rented out in the winter months but it's otherwise deserted the rest of the year." He continued, looking up as Dean turned to face him. "Does that sound like a place Dad would crash to you?" He asked, once again taking notice of the slight limp in his brothers step.

"Yeah it does." Dean replied, taking a quick glance at his watch. "If it's closed and deserted during this time of year there's a good chance that's where he's been squatting. It's out of town, quiet, near the woods."

"He hasn't changed a bit has he?" Sam suddenly asked, grabbing a pen and paper from the cluttered desk to write down a few key directions.

"Why would he?" Dean asked, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from his brother. "It's Dad."

Sam couldn't help but pause, his fingers loosing grip on the pen in his hands. "I don't know, I just thought that he would have changed after I left. You know, angry because I wasn't there or happy because he didn't have to worry about me anymore."

"Dad's Dad, Sam." Dean was quick to reply, grabbing a shot glass with one hand as he reached for a bottle of Whisky with the other. "If he had changed because of what you did, he plays his cards even closer to his chest 'cause I haven't noticed anything different about him." He continued, pouring himself a drink and swallowing it down.

"He still treats you the same way he always does then?" Sam quietly asked, the words catching in the back of his throat again as Dean's eyes instantly narrowed.

"Dude don't start with this again." Dean growled, slamming the empty shot glass down on the desk as his younger brother turned his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. "You're the one who has a problem with it, not me." The silence that followed his words almost made him regret the lie he'd just told. But lying to his younger brother was the only way he knew how to keep a strong front. How to show confidence and strength even though he was loosing faith in himself and all those around him. He'd always tried so hard to live up to his father's expectations but no matter how hard he tried, he always did seem to fall short or take a step in the wrong direction. The mess he was currently in only proved that fact and it was a mistake he knew he'd never hear the end of, a mistake he'd never be able to live down.

"Good news and bad news boys." Bobby started, walking into the living room and tossing his overcoat aside. Grabbing a trucker hat from the coat rack nearby, he paused in his steps as both men glanced over. "What, did I kill the mood or something?" He asked, noticing right away the tension between them.

"Let's hear it." Dean said, breaking the awkward silence as he once again filled the shot glass in front of him.

"Well the good news is that they're giving up the search for you in that river. The bad news is, they ain't ready to declare you dead just yet." Bobby announced, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.

"So what exactly are they looking for when they can't even find the Impala?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Beats the hell out of me." Bobby was quick to reply. "The detective more or less just fell short of calling his officer a liar though because they haven't been able to locate the car he supposedly chased down that road. Congratulations Dean, you just created your very own Urban Legend. Rumors are already starting to spread because by all accounts, you and the car simply vanished into thin air." He paused for only a moment as he caught the smile creep up from the corner of Dean's lips. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that smile. "So what did the two of you find on the whereabouts of yer old man? Any word from him yet?"

"We haven't heard from him but we think he might have been staying at a ski resort near Salida, near the foothills." Sam answered, flipping the laptop over so that Bobby could take a look for himself. "The place is vacant during the summer and it's near the spot where he would have been hunting that Wendigo."

Bobby offered a nod as he glanced at his watch, it was just past three in the afternoon. The day literally seemed to be flying by them. "All right well let's give him another hour or so and if he doesn't show up or answer his phone, then we'll head out to go find him." He announced, unable to shake his own feelings that something was in fact wrong.

* * *

John let out a groan as his eyes slowly opened, the last thing he remembered was getting pistol whipped in the face. He swallowed hard, tasting the blood in his mouth from the busted lip he'd ended up with. He didn't recall passing out but he obviously had since he now found himself tied to a chair. The ropes wrapped around his wrists and waist holding him firmly in place. Now sobering up from the weakened moment of self loathing and punishment that had taken him over, he no longer found pleasure in the pain that was slowly spreading from one bullet wound to his shoulder and another to his thigh. Such injuries would do nothing but slow him down in a fight, something he knew the Shapeshifter was counting on. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his wounds, feel the cold wet blood clinging to his clothes. Everything about his situation wasn't good but John knew it was only going to get worse.

His gaze drifted up as the cabin's door opened and the Shifter came in, his gun tucked into the side of its belt. Their eyes met for only a moment before John started looking for anything he could use to cut though the ropes.

"Hey guess what?" The Shapeshifter said, turning to shut the door and then making its way to the nearby window. "Your boys have been calling you, called your cell phone a few times in the last couple of hours while you were out."

"Doesn't surprise me in the least." John muttered under his breath, first noticing the setting sun over the distant tree line. "I'll tell you one thing, you'll be sorry when they do show up."

"No I wont but you will." The Shifter replied with a smile. "I'm counting on them to show up and when they do, I'm going to make you watch me slaughter them."

John couldn't help but close his eyes at those words, knowing his sons would eventually turn up in search of him. Dean was a keen hunter he'd know it was a trap, but he wasn't so sure about Sam. He'd left himself in his current situation but the last thing he wanted, the very last thing he needed on his conscious, was to drag his boys down with him. He swallowed hard, Sam's words about Dean needing help he would never ask for now echoing in his head. Maybe Sam had been right, what if he was too hard on Dean?

"The kid's smart." The Shapeshifter started, its voice pulling John's attention away from his guilt riddled thoughts. "Well trained and quick on his feet, he's just lacking the experience."

John struggled with the ropes holding his hands together as he watched the Shifter slowly pace back and forth in front of him. Why it was making an attempt at small pointless conversation was beyond him but as long as it was distracted, he'd have a better chance of slipping through his ropes.

"Found the police scanner in your truck too while I was moving it out of sight." It continued, pausing to take a quick glance out the window. The sun was setting fast now and in no time they'd be left in the dark with nothing more than a lantern to light up the room. "Couldn't help but have a listen. You know what I heard?" The Shapeshifter asked, momentarily looking over to catch John's eyes. "I heard that the hunt is still on for that kid of yours, cops from all over are looking for him. I guess he knows how we feel now, always having to watch your back."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you or something?" John asked, wincing in pain as he continued to pull at the ropes. "Cause I really don't."

There was a moment of silence as the Shapeshifter pulled out a large hunting knife from the duffle bag that was open on the table. "You should feel sorry for the kid, he probably looks up to you and you more or less led him to be slaughtered." "I can't wait to see the look on your face when they show up to kill you. Just like all the other monsters we've put down over the years, you're really no different." John hissed, straightening out in the chair as he watched the Shifter turn to face him.

"And I can't wait to see the look on your face, when I cut the flesh off their bones" The Shapeshifter was quick to reply as it examined the large blade in its grip. "I'm going to take my time and I'm going to enjoy it."  
"The advantage is theirs you do know that right?" John asked, sucking in a breath as the Shifter made its way over towards him, the large blade still tucked in its hand. "There's two of them and only one of you. " He growled, swearing under his breath as the Shifter pressed the tip of the sharp blade under his chin to tilt it up. "They've been dealing with scum like you their entire lives."

"You seem to be forgetting one minor detail." The Shapeshifter replied with a smile, pulling the blade away and setting it back down on the table. "There might be two of them and only one of me" It started, grabbing a handkerchief from the bag and making its way back to John. "But I can be anyone that I want." It continued, shoving the handkerchief into John's mouth and tying the ends together behind his head, to be used as a gag. "And I mean anyone." There was a moment of silence and both turned their attention to the window as the sound of a car engine drifted through the trees. "Show time." It said, straightening out as it palmed the gun that was tucked into the side of its belt and made its way towards the door. "You just sit tight, I'll be right back. And don't you worry about junior, I'll bring him to you."

John let out a string of swears that came out as nothing more than a muffled gargle thanks to the piece of fabric crammed into his mouth. Watching as the Shapeshifter wandered out into the night, the door latching shut softly behind it, he could only hope that Dean wouldn't be fooled by the creature, like he had been.


	7. Where do you turn?

**CHAPTER 7 -Where do you turn, when you hit a dead end?**

"Next left." Sam pointed from the back seat as Bobby slowed to make the turn. They'd waited long enough for John to turn up at Bobby's place, but when he never showed or even returned one of their calls, the trio hit the road to find him. The sun had set miles ago and the small towns that dotted the old country road had become more and more scarce. A lone rundown gas station at a secondary highway crossroads was the last they'd seen of civilization. The further they went, the more wilderness seemed to surround them.

Turning off the main road, weather cracked pavement gave way to loose gravel. "You sure?" Bobby asked, eyeing the dark road ahead for any sign of the remote ski cabins they were looking for.

"Yeah I'm sure." Sam was quick to reply, passing the map and the flashlight he'd been holding to his older brother in the front seat. "It's the only road that goes down this way and we've already passed a sign for the cabins and resort just a little while ago."

Dean glanced at the map for only a moment before shutting the flashlight off and setting it down in his lap. He could feel it in his gut and he knew he wasn't the only one, something was wrong. His Dad had left him for weeks at a time before but this was different. While still caught up in his own mess they were now on the hunt for their father, who was convinced that he was actually there at his side. It still hurt to think about, that their dad would be so easily fooled and not know the difference, but he also knew just how smart that Shapeshifter was.

"How you doing kid?" Bobby suddenly asked, his simple question pulling Dean's attention away from his thoughts. He didn't bother looking over, the eye contact would only make the silence that filled the car that much more uncomfortable for both of them.

"I'm good." Dean replied simply.

Bobby nodded only to acknowledge he'd heard the answer, but that answer wasn't enough to satisfy him. He knew the younger hunter was anything but fine, that he was still struggling to cope with his failed hunt and the resulting carnage. But perhaps even more damaging then that last hunt gone awry, was Dean's vain attempts to prove himself to his father. "Just good?"

"What do you want me to say, Bobby?" Dean growled, his hands clenching into fists as angst and anger collided. "You want me to say that I'm great? That I've never felt better?" He continued without missing a beat.

"No, I just want you to stop lying to us and actually tell us how you feel." Bobby was quick to reply, keeping a calm and steady tone of voice.

"You want to know how I feel?" Dean started, the frustration once again seeping out in his voice as his tone suddenly dropped. "I feel like there is NOTHING I could EVER possibly do, to show Dad that I can be a great hunter. Hell I'm starting to think that I deserve the amount of crap and bullshit I put up with because it doesn't seem to matter what it is that I do, I always manage to screw it up somehow. I mean look at me? I let a pair of Shifter's slip through my fingers, now one of them has Dad and the other put me on every cop's radar!"

Sam sank down into his seat as Dean's voice echoed in the car. The emotions were raw and not a single word was forced. He knew his older brother often kept to himself, he'd witnessed it in the past and had seen the flood gates open like this before in random spurts of drinking and reckless violence, but never before had he heard Dean use such a tone. There was just something in his voice. The chill went down his spine and as the silence between them once again filled the car, he couldn't help but watch in the reflection of the front window as Dean turned his stern eyes to the darkened scenery that was flying by. Just like the argument they'd had earlier in the day when they'd found him at the cabin in the woods, the look of dismay on his face was downright heartbreaking.

"Dean, your dad's proud of you. Of both of you." Bobby quietly started, his gaze drifting up to the rearview mirror to catch Sam's eyes in the back seat.

"Then how come he never says it?" Dean asked bluntly, embers of hate and resentment still smoldering deep inside. "How come he never shows it?"

"Cause that's just the kind of person John is." Bobby replied. "He doesn't know how to react and the only reason he keeps pointing out your flaws, is because there's too much good in ya to mention. I know he pisses you off sometimes, hell he pisses me off sometimes too, but you can't let him get under your skin. Your dad only has the best intentions in mind when he gives you grief about a bad hunt. He just wants you to learn from your mistakes and be better prepared for the next time."

"That doesn't sound like dad to me." Dean grumbled under his breath as he passed a hand over his face to hide the slightest trace of a tear.

"Well it is, you just don't know him like I do and that's his fault. If he'd stop giving you orders and barking commands every once in a while, maybe he'd realized that he raised you two well enough to think for yourselves." Bobby said, eyeing the large gate that was blocking the road up ahead of them. "Looks like this might be the place." He announced only to change the subject. "You two get your guns ready with silver rounds, I'll go see if the gate's locked." He continued, sliding the shifter into park and pulling the keys from the ignition.

Watching as the veteran hunter made his way towards the large gate, Sam couldn't help but suck in a breath. "He's probably right about dad." He admitted, thinking over what Bobby had said about their father and the way he often acted. No sooner had the words left his mouth, Dean turned in his seat to face him.

"Twenty-four hours ago you're arguing with me about the way the man treats me and now because of Bobby's little speech, you're telling me that..."

"Maybe I was wrong." Sam was quick to admit as their eyes locked for only a moment. Talking to Dean was like walking on eggshells. He didn't know what to say or not say and had no idea what would set him off next. "What Bobby said makes sense, you know how dad is. All the orders he expect us..."

"Yeah I know how Dad is alright." Dean cut in, watching as Bobby pulled the chain from the gate and simply pushed it open. "Problem is the Dad I know and the one you know, don't seem to be the same person." Dean continued as he loaded silver bullets into his handgun and straightened out in his seat, the movement reminding him of the wound in his side. He swore under his breath, momentarily pressing a hand up against his shirt and feeling the square bandage through the fabric. "If you knew the side of him that I do, you'd never disobey a direct order. NEVER."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, his brother's blind faith troubling. "Dean, I just want you to understand you don't deserve the crap you put up with." He quietly started, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. "The orders you get from him, the stuff he expects you to do without question." "C'mon we've got work to do." Dean muttered under his breath, ignoring his brother's comment as he stepped out of the car, flashlight in one hand and loaded gun in the other.  
Sam took a deep breath as he climbed out of the back seat, trying to remember what he was really doing there as he watched Dean make his way over towards Bobby. Things between Dean and their father never would change, so why was he there trying to change them? Explaining to his older brother that he was worth so much more than their fathers orders or approval would more than likely result in him getting a punch to the face, rather than getting his point across. He turned his flashlight on as he joined the pair at the gate, the words exchanged in the car still circling in his head. "We're not driving in?"

"Not if we're going to catch them by surprise." Bobby replied simply as the trio started walking along the well traveled dirt road, armed and ready for an encounter with the Shapeshifter that had slipped through Dean's fingers and had somehow managed to get to John. After a short walk through the woods, they reached a clearing and paused. "Lights out boys." The veteran hunter whispered, pointing out a dozen or so small cabins that could be seen in the distance. "Alright here's the plan." He started, thankful that the full moon high above was bright enough for them to get around without the flashlights. "I'll make my way around to the far side and start from there, you two start at this end and comb the cabins."

"What about the only one of those cabins with a light on?" Sam asked, pointing out a cabin in the middle that stood out among the rest. "Don't you think that's a good place to start?" He asked, eyeing the warm glow of a dim light in the center of desolate darkness.

"That's a good place to fall into a trap." Dean was quick to reply, pointing out the obvious his younger brother seemed to have missed.

"Look in each cabin and don't forget we're after a Shapeshifter. The thing could be anyone." Bobby warned, loading his gun. "You boys be careful." He said, watching as the pair gave him a nod and started sneaking their way to the first of many cabins. The place was deserted, but the light in the cabin and the fresh tire tracks in the mud had him convinced that they weren't there alone. Clutching his gun, he eyed the lone cabin that glowed with the dim ray of flickering light, as he made his way towards the far side of the resort grounds. "John you son of a bitch." He muttered under his breath, thinking of Dean and the toll this last job had had on the young hunter. "You'd better be here."

* * *

Guns drawn and loaded, Sam and Dean meticulously made their way from one cabin to the next, each door latched shut and locked with a padlock and each cabin just as empty as it was when spring came around and the resort was closed for the season. "See anything?" Sam asked, standing watch as his brother used a flashlight to peer in through the window.

"Empty." Dean replied simply, shutting his light off and stepping off the front porch to make his way to the next cabin. "I've got a bad feeling about this." He quietly admitted, his eyes drifting down the row to the only one that showed any sign of life. "If Dad's in there and that Shapeshifter is just sitting there waiting for us to bust through that front door."

"What if Dad's de..." Sam trailed off as Dean paused in his steps and turned around to face him, just like he had done when they were sitting in Bobby's car. Their eyes met and even in the moonlight, the look he got from his brother was enough to send the chills running down his spine. "I was just..."

"Don't." Dean growled, eyeing the younger man for only a moment before pointing him across the dirt road. "I'll take these last three, you check out the ones across the road." He said, shifting both the mood and the subject as he turned his attention back to the job at hand, pushing aside the thoughts of what would greet them when they eventually did make their way to the lone lit cabin nearby. He knew what his brother was getting at but he just didn't want to hear it.

Sam gave his brother a nod as he crossed over to the other side of the dirt road, climbing up the porch steps and turning to watch as Dean made his way up the steps of another cabin across from him. Walking between the shadows, the flashlight only came on when he peered into a window to take a look around. Sam couldn't help but let out a sigh as he watched the other man move on to the next one. Another empty cabin and another locked door, he wondered if Bobby was having better luck across the grounds but doubted it. They were wasting time, time he wasn't sure their father could spare. Turning his own flashlight on he peered in through the window he was standing next too, not surprised to see the cabin just as empty as all the other's they had already searched. He swore under his breath, shutting his light off and turning his attention back towards his brother across the road. With the moonlight casting his shadow on the ground as he walked, the limp in his step was still obvious though he was trying to play it down. For such a silent night, every single thing Sam could hear in the woods nearby had him on edge. This was one of things he didn't miss of the job. The late nights spent out in the middle of nowhere with the monsters they were hunting, lurking nearby, sitting and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Across the road, Dean looked in through one more window, almost hoping something would catch his eye but knowing this cabin would be no different than the one that came before it. He was so focused on what he was doing, that he never even heard the footsteps come to a stop at the base of the steps behind him. He should have been paying more attention to what was going on around him, but it was just one more mistake in the list of many he would struggle to deal with.

"Drop the gun, drop the gun!" Came a man's demanding voice. "Hands where I can see them!"

It had come out of nowhere and Dean froze as the flashlight hit him like a spotlight. His heart jumped to his throat as he turned slightly to take a glance at the armed, uniformed officer that was now standing at the bottom of the porch steps. He swore under his breath, his mind starting to race as he tried to think of what to do next. "Officer, I can explain." He started, reaching out to place both his gun and flashlight on the floor at his feet. He didn't have much more than that to offer but figured it was as good a place as any to start, considering anything that left his mouth from this point on would be a flat out lie. "See, I was driving by and thought I heard a scream." His eyes momentarily drifted over the man's shoulder as Sam took cover in the shadow of the cabin directly across from him.

"I'm sure you did." The officer replied, doing little to hide the skepticism in his voice. "Put your hands behind your head and turn around to face the wall." He ordered, keeping his gun on Dean as he made his way up the few steps.

Dean sucked in a breath as he placed both hands behind his head, his eyes catching the gleam of moonlight off the officer's badge as the other man approached with heavy steps. Turning to face the wall as he'd been told, he could have sworn his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. Very few situations left him at such a loss but just like the hopelessness he'd felt when he was behind the wheel of his car, barreling down some country road with the cops on his ass for murder, at that very moment the young hunter had no idea what to do. Dealing with the law was a whole other story than dealing with the supernatural.

The officer tucked his flashlight away as he reached for his handcuffs. "This is private property son and you have no right to be out here." The law man growled as he grabbed one of Dean's hands and brought it down behind his back. "Neighbors up on the ridge called about a light on in one of the cabins. You been squatting here long?" The officer continued.

"No sir." He replied simply, swallowing hard as he felt the cuff close around his wrist, the cold metal against his skin now all he could think about as he leaned his forehead against the cabin wall in front of him. Bottom line was, that regardless of the lives he'd saved in the process, he was a wanted man and it was the end of the line for him even though his job was far from being over. He'd failed to find a solution to the situation he was in and by doing so, had once again failed to prove himself a hunter or even a man, his father could count on and trust. Though a life sentence was more than likely hanging over his head, the only thing he could really focus on was how he'd disappointed his father. Again.

* * *

On the other side of the resort grounds, Bobby paused in his steps as his flashlight reflected off the tail lights of John's truck. For a short moment he was relieved. This was good news, this meant that John was actually there somewhere. Quietly making his way over to get a better look he couldn't help but notice the tire tracks in the mud, they were much too small for a truck of that size to have made. He approached cautiously, his gaze drifting to the lone lit cabin for only a moment before focusing on the large black truck that was tucked between a wood shed and what he could only assume was another vehicle covered with a tarp. The truck was parked out of sight and had been put there for a reason whereas John would have left it in plain sight, ready with a badge or excuse to justify his presence if need be. Using his flashlight to have a look, Bobby took a quick glance inside, the keys were still in the ignition and a duffle bag of clothes was open on the seat. He then moved to the box, nothing seemed to be missing from the arsenal, which could either be a good thing or a really bad one.

When his eyes scanned the muddy ground for footsteps, he couldn't help but notice the pile of goo sticking out of the large tarp nearby. He knew what it was and knew right away that they would have another problem on their hands if that Shapeshifter had turned into John Winchester in a desperate bid to evade them. He was starting to understand why Dean had a hard time keeping up to the thing. Fast and smart just like he said it was, it had already shed the young hunter's skin to stay one step ahead of them. He swallowed hard as he lifted the corner of the tarp, his curiosity getting the best of him when he felt the heat radiating from under the hood of a vehicle that hadn't been sitting there long. That's when his eyes focused on a Marshal's patrol car, the unfortunate officer slumped across the backseat. His heart hit the bottom of his stomach. "Shit."


	8. Backed into a Corner

**CHAPTER 8 - Backed into a corner**

Dean sucked in a breath as he felt that handcuff tighten around his wrist, it was a moment he knew he would never forget. He swallowed hard as he let his head hang low, his eyes falling to the floor as every single mistake he'd made along the way came back to haunt him. It was like the last nail in the coffin, everything that could have gone wrong with this hunt did and he was finally ready to admit to himself that he'd been defeated, that he couldn't handle the job on his own. That is, until he noticed the handle of his father's handgun sticking out of the officer's belt, right next to what was obviously his service weapon. His heart jumped to his throat in the fraction of a second it took for him to realize that the man about to cuff his hands together behind his back, wasn't an officer at all but the shifter he'd been hunting. The adrenaline mixed with the fear as it started pumping through his veins. This wasn't over yet and there was no way in hell that he was going down without a fight.

Before the second handcuff could clamp down around his wrist, Dean spun around and threw a punch that caught the other man off guard. The shifter took a step back and stumbled down the few steps as Dean dropped to the ground to grab his weapon, the sudden twisting motion reminding him of the wound in his side. He thought he had enough time to load his gun and take aim but the Shapeshifter was back on its feet in the blink of an eye and to his surprise, much quicker to the draw than he was.

Sam swore under his breath as the sound of gunshots tore through the silent night. From across the road he couldn't see much, but from what he did see and hear, he knew something wasn't right. Quickly making his way over, gun drawn, he watched as a uniformed officer darted between the two cabins into the nearby woods and his brother picked himself up off the porch floor to follow. Dean was clutching his side, his heavy breathing as hard to miss as the open handcuff that was dangling from his wrist. "Dude what the Hell?" He asked as he joined the other man, using his flashlight to get a better look at the condition his brother had been left in.

"Shifter." Dean replied, playing down the level of pain as he sucked in a breath. The glass from a broken window crunched under his feet as he climbed down the few steps, ignoring the general look of concern on Sam's face. "Told you the son of a bitch was smart." He continued as he grabbed his flashlight from the ground where it lay and tucked it under his arm. "You go find Dad, I've got this." He said without missing a beat as he pulled the spent clip from his gun and loading a full one. The silver bullets momentarily glistening in the moonlight.

"Dean." Sam growled, his eyes instantly drawn to the dark spot on his older brother's shoulder as the other man brushed by him to follow the shifter into the nearby woods. "DEAN!" He repeated.

"Sammy I've got this." Dean was quick to reply, catching his younger brother's eyes for only a moment before he headed off into the darkness.

Watching as his brother simply vanished into the woods, Sam stood there for a moment struggling with the order he'd just been given. Though he knew Dean was hell bent on cleaning his own mess, that he wanted to handle this one on his own, he also knew that his older brother could really use the backup. When his flashlight fell on the drops of blood that were trailing down from the front steps he swore under his breath, the sight making the decision that much harder for him to make. He knew what was on the line for Dean, what it meant for him to finished what he'd started but letting him do so was one of the hardest things Sam had ever done. "Damn it." He growled to himself, reluctantly turning away to head towards the lone lit cabin they'd assumed their father was being kept in.

Keeping an eye out for Bobby and the creature just in case it looped around, Sam hurried towards the cabin and crept up the front steps, cringing as the floor boards creaked under his feet. He paused by the window with his gun drawn and ready as he peered in, his eyes focusing on his father tied to a chair in the middle of the room. With his head hung low and blood covering his clothes, Sam wasn't even sure if the other man was still alive. "Dad." He breathed, taking a quick glance around before making his way towards the door and slipping inside. When his father looked up and caught his eyes, Sam couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He was in rough shape but at least he was still alive. "Dad." He started, tucking his gun away as he hurried to untie the piece of cloth the shifter had used as a gag. "Are you alright?"

Through the pain and fear of it all, John couldn't help but let the smile creep up to the corner of his lips as he eyed his son carefully. He hadn't seen Sam in two years and while he'd watched from a distance, it didn't compare to the moment where they were once again face to face. "I'll live." He quietly replied. "Where's your brother?"

There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but pause as he flipped his silver blade open to cut through the ropes. "He's hunting the shifter, damn thing was a Marshall. Dad don't take this the wrong way but if that thing is as smart as..."

"Just do it." John cut in, impressed that Sam was being so vigilant when he'd been away from the job for so long.

Sam offered a nod and swallowed hard as he slid the silver blade across his father's arm, ignoring the string of swears that soon followed. The cut didn't burn, it bled and that was all the proof he needed to cut through the ropes that were holding him in place.

Wincing as the tension in the ropes let go and he was finally able to move, John instantly hunched forward as a concerned Sam knelt down in front of him. "Sammy I'm sorry." He blurted, sucking in a shallow breath as the younger man pushed him back into the chair. "You were right about the shifter, about..."  
"You don't owe me an apology" Sam cut in as he wrapped an arm around his father's waist and hoisted him up out of the chair.  
"Yeah, actually I do." John quietly replied, the pain of that first step reminding him of the gunshot wound to his thigh. "I've been thinking, maybe I was a little too hard on you boys."

"Dad you don't owe me an apology." Sam growled, unable to keep the emotion that was still so raw out of his voice as he thought of his brother. "Save it for Dean." He continued, shifting his weight as he felt the other man struggle to keep up. Though he was happy to see his father again after two years, he couldn't shake the harsh words that had cut him to the core that night he decided he was done with the job. He'd chosen his dreams over the family business and had the door slammed shut behind him as a result, it was a wound that had yet to heal and one that opened all over again when he'd heard the desperation in his older brother's voice. He was angry at the man for the way he treated Dean, for how he'd left him behind to finish off the hunt but now wasn't the time for a confrontation. "C'mon, let's get you out of here." He said, pausing as the sound of footsteps on the porch caught his attention. He instantly reached for his gun as a shadow streaked by the window.

"Just leave me here." John whispered. "Go find your brother."

Ignoring his father's words, Sam took aim as the shadowy figure turned the corner.

"Easy boy it's just me." Bobby started as he walked into the cabin and came face to face with the barrel of Sam's gun. When the young hunter didn't budge, Bobby carefully reached for the blade that was tucked into the side of his belt. "Fair enough." He continued, eyeing the injured John as he flipped his blade open and extended his arm so both men could see. "We were after a shifter." He went on, dragging the blade across his flesh to draw blood. "We good?"

Sam gave him a nod as he tucked his gun away. "Yeah."

"Good, I'll bring the truck around." Bobby announced as he turned on his heels and disappeared out the front door.

* * *

Dean sworn under his breath as he came to a stop and brought a hand up to his chest, his racing heart resonating in the gunshot wound he was trying to ignore. Though he'd followed the shifter into the woods, he'd lost sight of it in the night and while he tried to catch his breath he couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched. If he was lucky he managed to injure the thing in their shoot-out and it was now just as vulnerable as he was, but the way things were going he doubted he'd hit it at all. He swallowed hard, the cold air filling his lungs just as painful as the pressure he was applying to the open wound. He didn't have time for this, the hunt had already gone on for far too long. All he wanted was for this job to be over and for things to go back to the way they were. He put his back against a tree as the sound of twigs snapping nearby caught his attention, he knew it was hunting him down but in the darkness he could see nothing at all. "Shit." He growled to himself. Unable to find his target, Dean did the only thing he could think of and closed his eyes. His grip on the gun tightened as he held it out at arm's length, the open handcuff around his wrist dangling in the wind as he listened intently to the sound of approaching footsteps. Though it was his father who'd taught him how to hold, handle and fire a gun it was Bobby who'd taught him how to listen for his prey and Pastor Jim who'd taught him the patience needed to get that one perfect shot.

He took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. He couldn't count on his sight for this so to take a blind shot based only on sound, he would have to relax and tune into what was going on around him. He loaded the gun, the breeze against his face bringing with it the faint sounds he was looking for. Like any keen hunter he turned towards the noise, waiting for that perfect moment as he listened to the footsteps approach from his left but then suddenly come to a stop. He swallowed hard hoping he hadn't been spotted as he waited for the thing to move again so he could hone in on it and take that blind shot. The seconds slipped by and his heart started racing again as he listened to the overwhelming silence around him. When the distant sound of his father's idling truck came drifting through the trees, the shifter he'd been listening for took off. Dean swore under his breath as his eyes flew open and he gave chase, knowing without a doubt that the shifter would reach the cabin before he did.

* * *

Bobby brought the truck around to the front of the cabin and pulled the door open as Sam helped John make his way down the steps. "Easy, easy." Bobby hissed as he grabbed his friend by the waist and gave him the boost he needed to climb into the passenger seat.

John swore under his breath as he straightened out the best he could, his body protesting every move that he made. "Thank you." He said simply as Bobby shut the door.  
"I heard gunshots earlier, where's your brother?" Bobby asked as he turned his attention back to the young hunter.

"He took off after the shifter, into the woods." Sam explained, the tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke. "Bobby the shifter's a Marshall now, a damn Marshall!"

"I know Sam, I found the cop dead in his car behind the cabin." He replied as he eyed the lit cabin behind them.

Sam sucked in a breath as he passed a hand over his face to wipe away the tears. His gaze momentarily drifted up to his injured father in the truck before once again focusing on the veteran hunter standing there in front of him. "Dean's been shot again and I don't even know where he..."

"It's alright we'll find him." Bobby was quick to cut in, the desperation in Sam's voice breaking his heart. "I'll go bring your dad out to my car, you stay here and wait for your brother. If he's not back by the time I come get you, we'll go looking for him. Don't worry we'll find him."

Sam offered a nod as he took a deep breath and loaded his gun, doing his best to keep the straight face he'd learned to fake almost as well as his older brother had. "Alright."

"Just keep an eye out for that shifter and be careful, the damn thing's quick." Bobby said as he climbed in behind the wheel and pulled away into the night.

Sam watched as the glow of tail lights disappeared behind the trees, the thoughts of what was going on in those woods heavy on his mind as he made his way back up the steps and into the cabin. For all he knew, Dean could already be dead or near death lying unconscious on the cold forest floor in a puddle of his own blood. With those thoughts circling in his head, he set his gun down on the table next to the open duffle bag and hurried to gather the rest of his father's things. When the sound of shuffling in the nearby woods caught his attention he momentarily froze, his eyes instantly drawn to the open door. He wanted to call out to his brother, wanted to let Dean know where he was in case it was him, but instinct forced him to grab his gun and prepare for the worse instead. There was no other way out of that cabin and with the footsteps fast approaching, Sam couldn't help but feel trapped. His grip on the gun tightened as he quickly weighed his options; extinguish the lantern's light and hide or make a run for the woods and hope for the best. "Shit." He growled to himself, blowing out of the tiny flame, grabbing the duffle bag from the table and running to take cover in one of the tiny bedrooms. Crouching down behind the bed he took aim from across the room, his sights set on the cabin's open door. He could now hear the footsteps coming up the old porch steps and as he loaded the gun, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

"Sammy you in here?" The other man asked, one hand wrapped around his gun while the other was pressed up to his chest. "Dude I'm bleeding out over here!"

Sam didn't offer a reply as he watched the other man take a step inside. He knew the shifter was smart and it had already fooled some of the best hunters he knew, so though it sounded like Dean and it moved like him, Sam wasn't convinced that it was. But at the same time, he wasn't sure enough that it wasn't to just pull the trigger. He studied the other man carefully, looking for that tell that would either give the shifter away or confirm that it really was his brother. Watching as the other man walked up to the table and just out of his line of sight, Sam couldn't help but swallow hard. He no longer had a clear shot and the more he watched, the less he thought this could possibly be his older brother. Dean would have reacted to the bloody chair and the cut ropes on the floor in the middle of the room. Dean would have said something about it instead of walking around it as if it weren't even there.

"Alright kid, you got me." The shifter suddenly announced, its voice echoing in the dark room as it took a glance around. "I ain't your brother, hell he's the last son of a bitch I'd ever want to be. You should see the shit he's got running through his head." It paused for a moment as it grabbed the old kerosene lamp from the table and tossed it towards the bedroom door. "Come out, come out wherever you are. I know you're in here."

Sam ducked behind the bed as the lamp shattered on the floor, sending glass and kerosene in all directions. Sliding across the floor towards the foot of the bed, he tried to stay out of sight as he peered around the corner. He still couldn't see the shifter, but that wouldn't stop him from waiting it out until it once again stepped out into the middle of the main room and right into his line of fire. For it to come after him, it would have to come through that bedroom door and when it did, he would be ready to simply pull the trigger.

"Come on Sam it's only fair." It continued from the other room, its eyes fixed on the darkness of the bedroom nearby as it loaded the gun in its grip. "First all I really wanted was to kill Dean Winchester, but then I realized that that wasn't enough. Killing the monster that hunted down my family wasn't enough because he didn't value his own life. Not like he values yours. Like I said, you should see the shit he's got eating away at him." There was another moment of silence and the shifter couldn't help but smile to itself. "I'm going to give you two options kid, I can make this fast & painless, or I can make your last moments a living hell."

When the unmistakable sound of a zippo lighter flipping open caught his attention, Sam couldn't help but feel his heart jump to his throat. In the darkness, he could see that dim flickering light reflect off the broken glass on the floor of the doorway in front of him. He still couldn't see the shifter but he knew what was coming next.

"Last chance Sam, I've got my gun loaded and ready." It continued, pausing for only a moment as it waited for a reply. "Alright then, have it your way."

Sam swore under his breath as he watched the lighter hit the floor, the tiny flame sparking an inferno the moment it made contact with the Kerosene. Watching as those flames quickly spread and devoured everything within their reach, now he really couldn't help but feel trapped. With the doorway fully engulfed in a matter of only seconds, he scanned the room around him for another escape and that's when his eyes focused on the window. It was already getting hard to breath and the longer he stayed, the worse he knew it was going to get. Tucking his gun away he grabbed the duffle bag from the floor beside him and tossed it through the glass, ducking as shards came raining down. He could feel the heat on his back as he got up off the floor, but he was too focused on getting out of there that he never noticed the shapeshifter take aim through the wall of flames behind him.


	9. If we get out alive

**CHAPTER 9 - If we get out alive**

Stumbling and struggling his way through the woods tired and sore, Dean knew the shifter would get to the cabin first. But what he didn't know or hadn't realized, was just how far behind it he actually was. By the time he emerged from the woods, his lungs were burning, he was gasping for breath and the shifter was nowhere in sight. He hunched over to place his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath, taking a moment to calm his racing heart and carefully study the eerily quiet scene. The cabin's front door was wide open but the lantern's light was no longer visible inside. His father's idling truck that had lured both him and the shifter back towards the cabin in the first place was also nowhere to be found.

Still unaware of where the others were he cautiously started to make his way over, the gun in his tight grip loaded and ready should he cross paths with the shapeshifter he knew was still out there. As he approached the small cabin he heard voices, one of them Sam's and to his dismay the other his own, a sign that the shifter had shed its skin yet again. "You son of a bitch." He muttered under his breath, anger and frustration momentarily overcoming exhaustion and pain. He paused at the bottom of the porch steps as the sound of shattering glass suddenly filled the silent night. He still couldn't see anyone in the cabin but as he made his way up those few steps, his eyes were instantly drawn to an amber glow inside. The cabin was dark and the light was dim at first but it quickly spread and when it did, his heart jumped to his throat. He could see the flames working their way up the wall, illuminating a scene he barely had time to take in as he approached the open door. He heard more glass break and saw the shifter take aim, shots ringing out before he could even raise his own gun. He couldn't see what its target was but there was no doubt in his mind that it was firing at Sam. The shifter never saw him coming and never turned to face him as he entered the small cabin with his gun drawn. By the time Dean pulled the trigger to put an end to the hunt that had cost him so much, four or five shots had already been fired.

He eyed the dead shifter on the floor of the cabin in front of him for only a moment before focusing on the fire that was now burning out of control, thoughts that he'd been too late now circling in his head. "SAM!?" He called out, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he took a cautious step forward, the heat keeping him at bay and the smoke preventing him from getting a good look around. "SAM!?" He repeated, the eerie sound of crackling sparks the only thing he could hear as he waited for some kind of response. When he saw his younger brother lying there on the bedroom floor, a wall of flames separating them, his heart skipped a beat. Sam wasn't moving, he'd likely been shot and there he was just out of reach. So close, yet so far away.

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted, panic setting in as he started to cough, the acrid smoke filling his lungs and making it harder to breath. "SAMMY!" As the seconds ticked away and the flames continued to spread, instinct kicked in, forcing him to follow orders that had long ago been seared into his soul. Looking out for his little brother was his job and sometimes that job was the only thing that kept him going. The last thing he wanted was to leave his brother like that but deep down Dean knew there was nothing he could do, not from where he stood inside that burning cabin. So he took a quick glance around, looking for anything he could use to reach the other man and that's when he focused on the ax leaning by the wood stove. His mind suddenly shifted gears. He tucked his gun away and grabbed the tool on his way out the door, hoping there would be a window he could reach on the other side, but prepared to make one if there wasn't.

* * *

It was the familiar voice that pulled him back to his senses and the smell of smoke that made everything fall back into place. When Sam opened his eyes all he could see was the old wooden floor he was lying on, the hot sparks falling around him singeing everything they touched. He could feel the heat of the flames on his back but he couldn't bring himself to get up. "Dean!" He shouted, swearing under his breath as he forced himself into a sitting position. "Dean?" The pain was excruciating and every breath was a struggle but Sam knew he couldn't stay there, not while the cabin was burning down around him. He swore under his breath as he started dragging himself towards the window, feeling the broken glass dig into the palm of his hands as he went on.

When Dean turned the corner and saw the duffle bag lying in the grass, he couldn't help but let out a short sigh of relief. This was a good sign, a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation. He hurried over, his eyes instantly focusing on the cloud of dark smoke that was billowing out the broken window. Using his sleeve to cover his mouth, he took a quick look inside catching only a glimpse of his brother before the heat and smoke forced him away. "Sammy!"

That voice soared above everything else, bringing a moment of calm and comfort in a chaotic situation. "Dean!" Sam replied, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. "Dean I can't get up!"

"Cover your face, I'm coming in to get you!" Dean was quick to reply, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he lifted the heavy ax up to the window to knock out the rest of the broken glass. He let it drop to the ground at his feet as he lifted himself up to the ledge, quickly crawling inside as he had done so many times on the job. The shards of glass twisted and crunched under his feet as he made his way over to Sam, the bed nearby igniting as the intense heat pushed on. "C'mon Sammy." He started, hooking an arm around his brother's waist to hoist him up off the floor.

Sam let out a groan as the other man held him up, the pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He stumbled in his steps but Dean caught his balance for him, hurrying to get him to the window that had been only a few feet away.

"C'mon I've got you." Dean went on, trying to keep his younger brother awake and conscious as he helped him onto the sill.

Sam passed both legs out the window before turning over to let himself fall out, a cry of pain escaping his lips as both feet hit the ground hard. It took everything he had not to crumple into a heap as he leaned heavily against the burning building. Dean crawled out after him and Sam couldn't help but notice the blood that had been clearly visible before, was now covered in a layer of soot. "Dean you've been shot." He mindlessly blurted, pointing it out only because his brother didn't seem to notice or care.

Dean grabbed the duffle bag from the ground before wrapping an arm around his brother's waist again. It could have been the pain or it could have been the shock, whatever the reason, hearing Sam point out such a thing made the smile creep up to the corner of his lips. "Not the first time." He replied without missing a beat. "Looks like that shifter nicked you too huh?" He went on, eyeing the distant headlights of his father's truck as it emerged from the woods up ahead.

"I've been stabbed, mauled and I've had the shit beaten out of me." Sam started, sucking in a breath as his foot hit a rock and a wave of pain spread up his leg. "But I've never been shot before."

"Yeah I know Sammy, but just hang in there I'll fix ya up." Dean replied, gently letting his brother down once they reached the gravel road. He sucked in a breath as he straightened out and placed a hand to his chest, his gaze focusing on the approaching truck before drifting back towards the burning cabin nearby. "You stay here, I'll be right back."

Sam's head snapped up as his brother started to make his way back towards the cabin. By then the rear half of the building was fully engulfed and flames could be seen shooting up through the roof. "Dean!? DEAN!" He called out, failing to get the other man's attention as he watched him disappear inside.

* * *

Bobby swore under his breath as he pulled up to Sam who was sitting alone by the side of the road. He left the truck running as he jumped out and made his way over to the younger man, his eyes instantly drawn to the inferno nearby. "What the hell happened?" He was quick to ask, his eyes still glued to the burning cabin as he knelt down next to Sam. "I was gone no more than ten minutes!" Sam swallowed hard as Bobby pulled his hands away from the bullet wound on the back of his leg. "It was the shifter." He started, sucking in a breath and leaning back to place his hands on the cold damp ground behind him for support. "The damn thing lit the place up and shot me while I was trying to get out of there." He explained, watching as the veteran hunter grabbed a handkerchief from John's nearby duffle bag.

"Where's your brother, is he still in the woods?" Bobby was quick to ask as he wrapped the handkerchief tightly around Sam's leg, ignoring the string of swears that followed as he tied off a knot to keep it in place.

Sam shook his head, his eyes tearing up again as his mind started to race, panic and pain getting the best of him all at once. "Dean killed the thing and got me out of the cabin, but then he want back inside."

"What? Why?" Bobby asked, catching the young hunter's eyes. When he didn't get an answer, he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "WHY?"

"I don't know why." Sam choked as he shook his head. "He just told me to wait here, that he'd be right back."

Bobby swore under his breath as he got up from Sam's side, his gaze drifting back towards the burning cabin just as Dean emerged from the front door dragging the shapeshifter's body out and down the front steps. "DEAN!" He shouted as he raced towards the cabin.. "Why the hell would you go back into a burning building for that damn thing!" He shouted, watching as the young hunter grabbed his father's gun from the dead shifter's grip.

Coughing as the cold air filled his lungs, Dean hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath. The contrast between the cool night air and the hot acrid smoke was such a shock to his body, that even the air slithering across his face was hitting him like pins and needles.

"You alright?" Bobby asked, concern evident in his voice as he eyed Dean and then looked back over to Sam who was still sitting on the ground by the idling truck. "Why'd you go back in there?" He repeated, taking another good look at the other man hunched over in front of him. He could feel the heat radiating off the young hunter and the handcuff that was clamped around his wrist was as hard to miss as the blood soaking through his clothes. Even the soot that clung to him couldn't hide all that blood.

Dean offered a nod as he cautiously straightened out, pressing a hand to his chest to apply pressure to the wound that had yet to stop bleeding. "Now the cops wont be looking for me anymore." He explained, eyeing the dead shifter that was still sporting his form. "Problem solved. They've got a body, so now they can stay the hell off my ass."

Though the young hunter offered a smile as their eyes met, Bobby could tell it was forced. "Cmon let's get you and your brother back to my place so I can take a look at those wounds." He said softly, eyeing the burning cabin one last time before turning to make their way back to the truck. "We need to get out of here fast. There's a couple houses up on the ridge and I bet that fire's going to be spotted from miles away."

"Did you find Dad?" Dean asked, the sound of hissing sparks falling to the background as they reached the idling truck. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah we found him, he's fine." Bobby replied, reaching down to help Sam back up to his feet. "But he's in no condition to drive, so one of you two is going to have to take the wheel of his truck while I take my car and your dad back up to my place."

"I'll drive." Dean started, watching as the veteran hunter helped his brother into the front seat. There was a moment of silence and when Bobby turned to face him, Dean couldn't help but notice the look on his face. "What?"

"Nothing." Bobby replied simply, stepping aside so Dean could get in. As he made his way over towards the driver's side, his gaze once again drifted to the burning cabin by the woods and the shapeshifter's lifeless body on the ground by the front steps. The hunt might have been over but this was nowhere near being wrapped up. Next came the faked police reports and investigations, something he was a pro at. He glanced over at the two men sitting beside him as he eased the truck into drive and pulled away, his mind racing back through the years as he watched Dean take a look at his injured little brother. "You killed another cop by the way, a Marshall." He started, turning his attention back to the dark road ahead.

"Yeah I gathered that much." Dean whispered, passing a hand over his face to wipe the soot from his brow. "When I realized the Shifter was the one arresting me for trespassing, I just knew the son of a bitch had killed again."

"I found the Marshall's body in his car, it was hidden under a tarp behind the cabin." Bobby went on. "So that shifter put the blood of two lawmen on your hands."

"Yeah well son of bitch's dead now." Dean hissed, his free hand grabbing at the handcuff that was clamped around his wrist. "I told you I'd take care of my own mess. They think I murdered that Sheriff and I bet they're going to pin that Marshall's murder on me too. Now that they're gonna consider me dead, this case should be closed." Sam couldn't help but look over as his older brother traced the edges of the cuff with blood stained fingers. He'd accomplished his goal, had solved the mess he made yet still he seemed nervous about something, there was still something on his mind. "Here, let me get that off for you." He offered, reaching into his pocket to pull out his set of lock picking tools. Though his leg was still sore from the gunshot wound, the pain had already started to subside.

Dean extending his hand to his brother and watched as Sam carefully started picking away at the lock. Picking locks was a skill and how Sam could even attempt such a precise task in a dark and moving vehicle, was truly beyond him. In no time, the soft click of the lock unlatching was heard and the handcuff loosened from around his wrist. "Thanks Sammy." He was quick to reply as he pulled the cuff free and dropped it to the floor.

"All right well you know how your dad loves running on empty, so be sure to gas up at that station we passed on the way in or you'll never make it back to my place." Bobby said as he eyed his car parked by the gate. "Oh and try not to draw too much attention to yourself while you're there." He added, getting out of the truck and watching as Dean did the same.

"I'll try not to." Dean replied frankly, well aware that he was covered in soot and blood. "See you there." He said, climbing up behind the wheel of his dad's truck as Bobby got into his own car and pulled away. "You still good, Sammy?" He asked, as he too pulled back out onto the road.

"Yeah I'm good." Sam replied simply, wincing as he straightened out. "How about you?"

There was a moment of silence and Dean couldn't help but feel his grip on the wheel tighten. "I'm good." He replied, knowing all too well that such a vague response wasn't enough for his little brother.

"Liar." Sam muttered, looking over to catch Dean's eyes for only a moment before the other man focused on the dark road ahead. "Dean I know you took a shot to the shoulder before you darted into the woods and I know you're still sore from the one you took to the side the night before."

"What do you want me to say Sam? You already know I've been shot twice, I've more than likely lost a lot of blood and you & I both inhaled a little smoke."

"I just want you to be honest with me." Sam quietly started. "I'm not a little kid anymore you don't have to lie to me, you don't..."

"I have never lied to you Sam." Dean cut in, regretting the moment he raised his voice when he felt it resonate deep inside. "Never."

"No but you never tell me the whole truth either."

There was an awkward moment of silence and Dean couldn't help but let out a sigh. His little brother really had changed since the last time they had seen each other two years ago. "Here comes the brigade." He remarked, only to change the subject as flashing lights lit up the dark road ahead. Both eyed the small convoy of fire trucks as they flew by down the road, heading for the cabin ablaze in the woods.

"Wonder if Bobby called it in." Sam said, turning in his seat to watch as the lights disappeared behind them and the sirens faded away.

"When I was in the woods I could see a light off on the ridge, like Bobby said, someone probably spotted the fire from there." Dean replied, taking a quick glance at the clock, it was just past midnight. When his gaze drifted back to the dash gauges in front of him he swore under his breath, making Sam lean in to take a look at what he'd seen.

"Does dad always drive it till it's this low?" The younger man asked, eyeing the fuel light that had just come on and the needle that was hovering over the empty mark.

"Yeah he's got a Jerrycan in the back just in case he runs out, but he keeps the tank low like this when he needs an excuse."

"An excuse for what?" Sam continued, his curiosity kicking in.

"Well that cabin he was squatting in, if anyone asked he'd tell them that it was getting dark and he was about to run out of gas." Dean explained, reciting one of the many tactics his father had used over his long hunting career.

"He really does have a plan laid out for everything, doesn't he?" Sam asked, the smile creeping up to the corner of his lips.

"Pretty much." Dean replied, still unsure of how he was going to explain himself to their father once they did meet up at Bobby's house. "There's the station." He said as it came into view. "You stay here, I'll pump the gas." Sam offered as they pulled up to the deserted pumps.

"No I'll get..."

"Dean, you look like a bloody mess. I've got this." Sam replied as he extended his hand and waited for the other man to pass him the cash. Their eyes never met as Dean reached into his pocket to pull out a few twenty dollar bills, handing them over before he shut off the truck.

Sam took a glance around as he made his way over to the pump and started fueling up, his gaze drifting to the small store and to the lone attendant stationed behind the counter. As the numbers continued to climb, his mind started to wander. The hunt had been a hard one on his brother and never before had he seen the other man struggle so much just to prove himself. When the pump eventually shut off, he tucked the nozzle away and momentarily leaned into the window. "Want anything inside?" He asked, his voice obviously pulling Dean out of his own scattered thoughts. When his brother shook his head, Sam made his way to the store, the bell over the door ringing as he walked in.

"That'll be $64" The man stated without looking up. As Sam counted out the bills, the man's gaze drifted towards the window. "Nice ride." He remarked. "Seen one just like it the other day."

"Oh it was probably the same one." Sam politely replied as he handed over the cash. "My brother and I came down for the weekend, now we're heading back to town."

"You don't say." He man continued, eyeing the young hunter carefully as he handed him his change.

"Mind if I use the rest room?" Sam asked, watching as the clerk pointed him towards the back of the store. "Thanks."

* * *

Dean tapped a finger on the wheel as he waited for his younger brother to emerge from the store. The gunshot wound in his shoulder had finally stopped bleeding and now that he was no longer running through the woods, the pain had started to subside. He knew he'd still need some medical attention, but not being alone or left to do it on his own put his mind at ease. Bobby could do a better job with the stitching than he ever could. When Sam finally walked out, he started the truck.

"Hey Dean this back tire's flat." Sam remarked, pointing towards the rear passenger wheel as he approached.

"You gotta be kidding me." Dean replied as he got out of the truck. Making his way around to take a look for himself, he never even noticed the baseball bat tucked behind Sam's back.


	10. No I wont be fooled again

CHAPTER 10 - No I wont be fooled again

Inside the tiny washroom Sam splashed the cold water on his face to clean up. He wasn't covered in soot but the smell of thick smoke still lingered in the air around him, he could smell it on his clothes and taste it in his mouth. He used the inside of his shirt to dry off and then turned to leave, surprised to find that the bathroom door had locked behind him. He tried it again and while the door moved he couldn't get it open, something had been pushed up against it to keep it shut. He swore under his breath, banging a fist against the door to get the lone clerk's attention then pausing as a chilling thought trickled into the back of his mind. There was something about the brief conversation with the clerk that now made the hair on the back of his neck stand.

Sam started to pace the floor of his small confine as his mind started to race. In his line of work there was no such thing as coincidence; Dean and his father had been trailing a group of cunning Shapeshifters and now he was left wondering if maybe they had managed to miss just one more along the way. Though it seemed unlikely, he knew it wasn't impossible. He grabbed the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, instinct telling him that he should get a hold of his brother but just as their father had said, reception in the area was bad and he couldn't even get a signal. "Damn it." He growled to himself, tucking his phone away as he turned his attention back to the door.

He stood frozen in the moment, the sound of the dripping faucet doing little to distract him from his thoughts as he weighed his options and the consequence of his actions, or lack there of. Though his brother would be willing to put up the fight, Dean was injured and exhausted, in no shape to face off against another shifter. He had to get out of there, he had to help his brother. Sam let out a cry as he threw his shoulder against the door and pushed with everything he had, forcing the door open a crack. When his feet started sliding on the dirty tile floor, he put his back to the door and braced himself against the base of the toilet. He swore under his breath, feeling the tension turn to pain as the muscles in his left leg pulled and stretched at his wound. It was a small victory when he gained an inch, at least he knew he could get the door to move. But at this pace, he only hoped that he wouldn't be too late.

When Dean saw his younger brother swing the bat from the corner of his eye, the only thing he had time to do was put an arm up to deflect the blow that was meant for the back of his head. He let out a swear as the aluminum bat hit hard, sending a painful shock up his forearm to his wounded shoulder. Preoccupied dealing with the pain and the unexpectedness of the attack he never saw Sam take a second swing until he felt it on the back of his legs, the blow forcing his knees to bend and sending him to the ground. Caught off guard by the strategic hit that had sent him to his hands and knees, Dean had no time to react as he took a kick to the face. "You son of a bitch!" He growled, well aware that the man towering over him wasn't his little brother at all. He made an attempt to reach for his gun but a kick to the stomach made him collapse.

"You've got a lot to learn kid." The shapeshifter started, the smile creeping up to the corner of its lips as Dean cradled his stomach. "You and your old man." It continued, tapping the bat on the ground by the young hunter's face and letting out a chuckle when he flinched at the sound. "You two think you're so damn good at what you do."

"We've killed off the rest of your gang." Dean hissed, forcing himself back up to his hands and knees. "I'd say we're doing pretty good." He silenced when the shifter delivered a solid kick to his ribs, this one knocking him back against his father's truck and stealing the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, his mind starting to wander as he watched the thing get a better grip on the bat in its hands. If it was standing there in front of him borrowing Sam's form, where the hell was his little brother? He thought to himself.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance." It snarled as it pressed the end of the bat into Dean's chest to watch him squirm. "And trust me, you had a chance but you and your old man couldn't tell the difference between me and the folks you two yahoos are hell bent on saving. If you would have left us alone in the first place, all those people would have been fine." It paused for only a moment as it used the bat to force Dean to look up. "I was waiting for your daddy to show up but you got out of his truck instead. So tell me boy, where is he?"

Dean swallowed hard as he leaned his head back against the truck, the bat under his chin holding his head up and ensuring that he was staring at the shapeshifter he and his father had somehow managed to miss along the way. "He's dead." He stammered, sucking in a breath as the bat finally pulled away. "I went to find him but one of your buddies got to him first." There was a pause and as the shifter's eyes narrowed, Dean couldn't help but feel that stare go right through him.

"Liar." It started simply as it raised the bat and took another swing. Dean ducked to avoid the blow and the metal bat hit the truck behind him with a thud that echoed in the night. "If he was dead than you'd be too! So where is he!?"

Dean rolled to his left and barely managed to avoid the bat as it pounded into the pavement by his head. The next swing however, was one he couldn't avoid and he let out a groan as he felt it smack into his ribs again. He curled into a ball to cover himself and made another attempt to reach for his gun, his efforts thwarted when he took a hard hit to the back of the hand. The tears were threatening to fall as pain spread like a wildfire he couldn't control. Dying in the burning cabin while saving his younger brother would have been a much more heroic way to go, than being beaten to death in an empty lot.

With one last shove, the display that had been propped up against the door to keep it shut slid forward and Sam was able to push it open. He reached for his gun as he made his way back towards the counter and leaned over to peer behind it. Sure enough, there on the floor in a puddle of blood was the lone clerk who'd been working the nightshift. "Shit." He muttered to himself, loading the gun and racing towards the front of the store. That's when he saw the shapeshifter towering over his brother, the bat in its hand raised up and ready to take another swing. He swore under his breath and his heart skipped a beat at the sight, he was expecting to see the clerk who'd locked him in the bathroom out there, not himself wielding a baseball at his own brother. He had to act fast because if Dean was on the ground that could only mean one thing, that he'd already taken one hell of a beating and just one more blow might be the last. Eyeing the bell that hung in the door for only a moment, Sam knew he risked getting the shifter's attention if he stepped out of the store. Getting its attention could spell disaster if it was as smart as the others had been, one wrong move and his brother was an instant human shield. So Sam took aim from inside the store and fired two shots right through the pane of glass in front of him.

* * *

Doing his best to shield himself from the relentless blows, Dean thought the beating would never end. Every time he tried to get back to his feet, he'd take another hit that would send him right back to the ground. He was vulnerable and he knew it but all he could think about was Sam and what might have happened since the shifter was now sporting his form. Fighting to stay conscious amidst the pain of it all, Dean never heard the glass shatter or the sound of gunshots tear up the silence of night. What he did hear however, was the aluminum bat hitting the pavement, it was the last thing he heard before everything around him faded to black.

Though he was relieved to see his target crash to the ground, his older brother didn't stir. "DEAN!" Sam shouted, hearing the panic in his own voice as he pushed the door open, the swing of it sending shattered glass raining to the pavement below. He tucked his gun away as he approached the truck and took a quick glance around, at this hour of the night there wasn't another car in sight in the lot or on the road.

He paused in his steps as his eyes fell to his older brother. Dean was lying on his side by their father's truck, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and a dark bruise already visible along his jaw line. One arm was tucked tight against his body while the other was stretched out behind his back, the pose unnatural and awkward. The shifter lay nearby and for Sam, seeing himself lying there on the ground next to his brother with two bullet holes to the chest was surreal. He kicked the aluminum bat out of the shifter's loose grip and watched absentmindedly as it rolled away coming to a stop only when it hit the truck's tire. "Dean?" Sam said softly as he knelt down next to his older brother. When he didn't get a response, he carefully pulled the other man up into a sitting position and cradled his face in his hands. "Dean wake up man." He started, watching as his eyelids fluttered and then finally opened. "Hey, you alright?"

Dean let out a groan as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Already he could feel the bruises starting to form and each hit he took had surely left its own mark. "I guess I was wrong." He blurted as he straightened out and then leaned back against the truck behind him.

"About what?" Sam was quick to reply, catching his older brother's eyes and watching as he struggled to hide the pain.

"About not needing your help." There was a moment of silence as Dean's gaze drifted down to the dead shifter nearby, finally admitting he couldn't handle the job on his own. "It would have killed me if it wasn't for you."

Sam didn't offer a reply, he knew there was nothing for him to say that would ease his brother's shattered ego. "C'mon, let's get you to Bobbys." He said softly, looping an arm around Dean's waist and hoisting him up. When the other man let out a swear, Sam couldn't help but apologize. He didn't know where to place his hands, didn't know where Dean had been hit and just what was sore or broken. "I've got you."

Dean draped an arm over his little brother's shoulder as the other man carefully helped him make his way towards the passenger door of the truck. The arm around the back of his waist was a painful reminder of the beating he'd just endured. It didn't matter how gentle Sam was being because absolutely everything hurt. He let out another swear as his battered body protested every move they made and every step they took. The hit he took to the ribs was the one that hurt the most but it was the one that had sent him to the ground that was the hardest to deal with. He could still feel the bat on the back of his knees as Sam reached over to open the door and help him up into their father's truck. "Sammy, grab the body." He called out, clutching at his stomach as the sound of his own voice echoed inside. "We can't leave it here when that damn thing died wearing your pound of flesh."

Sam gave his brother a nod as he made his way to the back and pulled the tailgate down. He was so focused on getting Dean the help he so desperately needed that he never even thought of the shifter's body and what it would mean to the life he'd been living if they left the thing lying there with a dead clerk inside the store. It was the attention to details that made Dean such a great hunter, if only he could realize that himself. Picking up what was in all appearance his own body and shoving it into the back of the truck, Sam slammed the tailgate shut and grabbed the bat from the ground before making his way to the driver's side. He slid the bat behind the seat and shut his door, pausing for only a moment as he eyed the man sitting next to him. Dean was slouched in his seat, leaning heavily against the door with a hand still clutching his stomach. "You alright?" He asked again as he slid the shifter in drive and pealed out of the parking lot.

"I'm awesome" Dean blurted, shutting his eyes as the road ahead of him twisted and spun in his blurry vision. He swallowed hard as he let his head fall back against the headrest behind him, the roar of the engine casting its vibrations throughout the old truck. "I let a few shapeshifters pass me by, made a wanted man out of myself, took the cops on a high speed chase, crashed the Impala, almost got dad killed, almost got you killed, and couldn't even handle the hunt I let get out of hand."

"Anything else?" Sam asked without looking over.

"Yeah, that damn shifter put a dent in the side of the truck. Dad's gonna kill me." Dean whispered as he closed his eyes, the overwhelming negative thoughts taking hold of him once again.

There was a moment of silence and while Sam let out a sigh, Dean swallowed hard. "He's not going to kill you." Sam quietly replied, well aware that his words were of little comfort to the other man. Despite how he had tried to help, there just seemed to be nothing he could say or do to lift the crushing weight from his older brother's shoulders. The pressure didn't just come from their dad, Dean was at times as hard on himself as their father was.

Dean let out a smirk. His little brother just didn't understand, he never would because no one was watching and judging his every move, no one was expecting more than he could possibly ever offer. With his head in his hands he couldn't help but let his eyes shut, all he wanted was for the whole ordeal to be over. To be back behind the wheel of his car on some long forgotten highway just doing his job, faking his way through another long day, saving lives to give his own a sense of purpose and worth. "Hey, stay with me." Sam warned, reaching over to give the older man a soft nudge.

"I'm awake." Dean muttered, clutching onto his side as the truck hit a pothole in the road. "Well let's keep it that way. I know you're sore and exhausted but until we get to Bobby's place I don't want you passing out on me." There was another moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but take a quick glance over. He was expecting some kind of snappy smart ass remark, so when he got none he knew something was wrong. "Dean." He barked, reaching over again to give his brother a nudge. When he still didn't get a reply, he swore under his breath. His brother was still slouched in his seat, clutching his side with one hand and his head with the other but he wasn't responding. "Dean!" He repeated, pulling over to the shoulder of the road in haste. "Hey, c'mon wake up." He continued, reaching over to put a hand against his forehead and feeling the heat radiate from his bloody and soot covered skin. "Damn it, Dean wake up." He growled, his mind racing as his hand slid down to the other man's throat. He was still breathing and he still had a pulse but Sam knew his brother was in trouble. Unable to wake him, he fished the cell phone from his pocket and dialed Bobby's number. With service spotty at best he knew there was a possibility that his call would get nowhere, but he needed to give it a try, he could think of nothing else to do.

_"Yeah?"_ Bobby asked simply, knowing that the boys weren't too far on the road behind him.

"Bobby, Dean passed out and I can't snap him out of it." Sam blurted, doing his best to keep the panic out of his voice. Sliding back over behind the wheel, he shifted the truck into drive with his free hand and pulled back out onto the road. "I don't know what to do, he's burning up and..." Sam trailed off as his eyes caught a mile marker on the side of the road. His heart sank like a stone, they were still miles away from anywhere. "Bobby, I don't know what to do." He repeated.

Bobby swallowed hard as his gaze momentarily drifted over to a bloodied and battered John Winchester in the seat next to him. Comforting the boys was supposed to be his job, he was their father. But once again Bobby found himself trying to fill those shoes, trying to find what they needed to hear to know that everything would be alright in the end._ "Sam there isn't much more you can do for him right now."_ The veteran hunter calmly replied. _"Just get him to my place, I'll look after him."_

"Bobby I don't know just how bad a shape he's in." Sam went on, his voice wavering as he spoke. "I don't think he's..."

_"Sam."_ Bobby interrupted, doing his best to calm the younger man and keep him from loosing his head. _"Just get him to my place, let me worry about it, alright?"_

Sam swallowed hard. "Alright, see you in a bit." He replied, flipping the cell phone shut and tossing it aside. He took a deep breath as his gaze once again drifted over to the man slouching in the seat beside him. "Just hang in there Dean." He whispered, thinking of all the times his older brother had watched over him. "Just a few more miles..."


	11. Gone are the tail lights

**CHAPTER 11 - Gone are the taillights**

"Thanks Rufus, I owe you one." Bobby started, extending his hand as the other hunter passed him the keys to his tow truck.

"You bet your ass you do, Signer." Rufus was quick to reply. "That mother wasn't just off the road you know, it was at the bottom of a hill in the damn woods! I had to winch it out of there before I could even load it onto this relic of yours you call a tow truck."

"Like I said." Bobby once again started. "I owe you one."

"You been saying that quite a bit lately, Bob." There was a moment of silence and Rufus couldn't help but watch as the other man turned away from his gaze. Between being asked to disposed of a few bodies and removing a wrecked car the police were still looking for, he couldn't help but feel as if he'd been commissioned to clean up someone else's mess. "The boy's lucky to be alive, he could have easily rolled it and crashed roof first into that tree." He remarked, pausing as Bobby let out a sigh. It was obvious such a thought had already crossed his mind and Rufus knew just how much those boys meant to the other hunter. "How's he doing anyway?"

"Couple cracked ribs, a few bruises, concussion, some gun shot wounds, but he should be fine soon enough. He's a tough kid, he'll be back on his feet in no time. Now he just needs to get over the expectations he's got hanging over him."

Bobby didn't need to explain, Rufus knew exactly what the other man was referring to. John Winchester was good hunter but a hard one to get along with. "How's Johnny doing?"

"Nothing John can't handle, bruised ego might be a different story though."

Rufus shook his head. "Winchesters" He exclaimed in frustration. "Well you tell Johnny to ease up on the boy, before he gets both of 'em killed. I'll see ya around Bob."

"See ya." Bobby replied simply with a waive as he watched Rufus climb behind the wheel of his truck and pull out of the scrap yard. Turning his attention back to the muddy Impala infront of him, Bobby couldn't help but let his mind wander as he studied each dent and every scratch. The outcome could have been much worse for all of them and the desperation in Sam's voice when he'd called from school, was something he'd never forget. When he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see John carefully making his way over. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?" He growled.

"If you didn't want me out of bed, you shouldn't of left the cane leaning against the night stand." John was quick to reply as he came to a stop next to the Impala and put a hand out against it to steady himself.

"Easy to see where your boys get their stubbornness from." Bobby muttered as he pulled out a tree branch that was lodged in the car's wheel well.

"How are they?" John finally asked, showing some concern by asking but his tired voice lacking any real emotion.

"They'll be fine." Bobby replied simply, watching as the other man's gaze drifted down to the car he was leaning on. Despite all the rain, blood could still be seen smeared over the leather seat and dash. "Dean's going to need to rest up though, take a few weeks off from the job to clear his head." There was so much he wanted to say to the man standing there beside him, but Bobby knew better than to question his methods when it came to raising his sons.

"Maybe Sam's right." John suddenly started, those words catching Bobby a little off guard. "Maybe I shouldn't have left Dean to deal with the hunt by himself, maybe he wasn't ready for it after all."

"I don't think that was the problem." Bobby quietly replied as his gaze drifted off towards his home. "The kid's smart and you taught him well. You and I both know he's going to grow to be one hell of a great hunter and he's going to do the job well by himself." He said, sucking in a deep breath. "To be honest with ya John, I think you've just been too hard on him these past two years since Sam left for school."

"I need to be hard on him, he needs to be ready and better prepared."

Bobby shook his head as he caught the other man's eyes. "He needs to know that he's doing a great job and that mistakes happen. I think you owe the boy an apology, being human isn't a weakness John."

"It is if you're a hunter." John was quick to reply, his voice rising slightly in his defense. He grabbed the cane with one hand and pushed off from the Impala with the other. "I'm going to go pack up and head out." He announced as he slowly started to make his way back towards the house.

"You know you could use a few days off yourself." Bobby called out, watching as the stubborn man took each step carefully. "You're in no shape to be chasing anything down."

"I've still got a few cases that need to be looked after." John replied simply. "It's best that I hit the road as soon as possible, get back into the game."

* * *

Dean let out a groan as he tried to turn over, the pain in his ribs forcing him to reconsider the moment he shifted his weight. "Sammy?" He asked, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. As his eyes finally opened, they instantly focused on the younger man sitting at his bedside.

"It's all right Dean, we're at Bobby's house now. It's all over." Sam quietly replied.

"It never is." Dean answered, his trademark grin momentarily making an appearance. "How long have I been out? All I remember is crawling into Dad's truck after the gas station clerk went all psycho on my ass. Son of a bitch was you."

"You've been out a couple hours, it's almost three in the afternoon now." Sam quietly replied, watching as Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Wasn't sure you were going to pull through at one point. You had me scared."

"Aw you know me." Dean cut in as he winced, once again trying to turn over. "It'll take more than that to cut me down." There was a short pause as he tried his best to hide the pain of every breath. "How's Dad? How are you doing?"

"Dad's fine and so am I, just a few minor wounds." Sam answered, reaching over to adjust the other man's pillow as Dean sat up.

Noticing for the first time the bandage that was wrapped around his hand, Dean couldn't help but take a quick look around the room. The first aid kit was still open on the bedside table and everything from bandages and gauzes to needle and thread was scattered around it. "Bobby did a lot of patching I guess? Between the three of us, I'm sure he must have been up all night."

"He called in another favor." Sam started as he leaned back in his chair. "Couple years ago he saved a pre-med student from a vengeful spirit at a university residence. She was here when I pulled up last night. Did a great job working on you."

There was a moment of silence and Dean couldn't help but crack a smile, Bobby had connections everywhere. "Was she hot?"

Sam let out a chuckle when his brother offered a wink. "Yeah Dean she certainly was."

"Figures, I'm the one who's out cold." He paused as his mind drifted back the series of events and the hunt that had gotten away from him. "Bobby sure did call in quite a few favors for me, didn't he?"

Sam gave him a simple nod, keeping to himself the very first thing that came to mind. Bobby had done so much more for Dean than their father had with this case, and with all the trouble that followed. "How about my Baby?" Dean suddenly asked. "How's she doing?"

"I'm not sure, Rufus dropped it off around noon." Sam casually replied, the question pulling him away from their Father's shortcomings. He stood from his chair and took a glance out the bedroom window into the scrap yard below. "Bobby's out there looking at it now."

"Could you go find out?" Dean quietly asked, offering a smile as his brother caught his eyes. "Dude it's killing me not knowing what needs to be done."

"All right, I'll go find out." Sam replied as he straightened out. "But you stay put." He continued as he pointed a finger.

"Yes Sir." Dean said with a smile as he watched the younger man make his way out of the room. It tore him apart just thinking about it because he felt as if he was choosing between his brother and his father, but he hadn't seen Sam so happy in years. Walking out on them seemed to have been one of the best moves his little brother had ever made. And right now, seeing him happy again was more important than having him go on as a jaded hunter holding a grudge. Just like him.

* * *

Sam let out a sigh as he made his way down the back steps and into the scrap yard to join Bobby. The sight of the Impala made his heart sink all over again. "So what do you think?" He asked as he approached, eyeing the classic car he'd spent years of his life riding in. "Dean want's to know what the verdict is."

"Well there's no damage to the frame." Bobby started, readjusting his hat. "We've got a few dents to hammer out, fill in those bullet holes, a new windshield to put in, needs a tire & rim but she should be fine. A new coat of paint and you'd never tell there was any damage." He continued as he looked over to catch the younger man's eyes. "Can't say the same about your brother though." He added almost casually. "We'll just have to wait and see about that one.

"Dean's been through worse." Sam admitted as his eyes drifted from Bobby, to the bullet holes in the Impala's door. "Couple of wounds and sore bones wont stop him."

"I ain't talking about the physical damage, son. I'm talking about the emotionally roller coaster he's been on. One minute he'd soaring and he's the best damn hunter I've seen in years, and the next he can barely keep his head above the crap that follows your daddy around." Bobby paused for only a moment as he watched his words hit home. "He needs a better way to deal with this shit before it gets him killed. He can't keep shoving it all down."

"Dad does." Sam quietly replied, knowing that what appeared to be the Winchester way, wasn't exactly the best one.

"Your dad's different." Bobby went on. "And he's not the one who'll get himself killed, just to do right by someone else."

Sam swallowed hard, the other man was right and he knew it. Dean would stop at nothing to prove himself to their father. "I need to talk to him." He said as he took a quick glance around the scrap yard.

"Already tried." Bobby was quick to reply. "But you know how your old man is. No one knows better than him."

"Well I'm going to try anyway."

"Better hurry up then, cause he's already packing up to leave."

"What?" Sam asked, the statement catching him by surprise.

"He's packing up to leave." Bobby repeated. "Said he had other work to do."

Sam swore under his breath as he turned on his heels and headed back towards the house, his hands automatically clenching into fists. He had no idea what he was going to say but knew that he had to say something. For Dean. He made his way up the stairs and could hear his father and brother talking, something about a job two towns over. He entered the room and came to a stop, his heart racing and his anger smoldering deep down. "Dad." He started, the authority in his voice years ahead of his age. "Bobby told me you were taking off again."

"Yeah that's right." The older man replied, putting a hand on the bed post to steady himself as he looked over his shoulder. "There's still work to be done."

"What about Dean?" Sam asked, his voice rising as he scratched the surface of earlier arguments.

"What about him?" John replied simply.

Dean sucked in a shallow breath as he watched his younger brother close the little distance there was between him and their father. Seeing the two of them face to face like this, Sam now towering over the man who'd raised them, brought back memories of the bitter argument almost two years ago to the day. THE argument that had seen them part ways, and more of less forced him to pick a side. "Leave him be Sammy." Dean calmly started, growing tiered of always being the referee caught between them. "There's no use for him to stay, I'm the one on bed rest."

"That's not my point." Sam quickly growled, his eyes momentarily catching those of his brother.

"Then what is it, boy?" John hissed, dropping the duffle bag he'd been holding on the corner of the bed.

"You leaving again when the job's not done! He needs you here." Sam continued, pointing towards his injured brother. "Can't you see that?"

"He doesn't need me." John was quick to reply, his own voice starting to rise as he once again found himself defending his decisions. "What he needs is a few days rest to get over these injuries."

"He wouldn't be injured if you wouldn't have left him behind to handle the damn hunt, by himself!"

"Sam..." Dean warned, his coarse voice doing little to breakup the inevitable fight as he watched his father grab his brother by the shirt. "Dad!" He added, wincing in pain as the sound of his own voice resonated deep down inside.

"He wouldn't have been alone if you hadn't of turned your back on your family." John growled, his eyes narrowing on his youngest son as his oldest looked on from the bed. "Dean can take care of himself but if you're so worried about him, then why the hell did you run off to school in the first place."

"Dad that's enough" Dean hissed, swearing under his breath as he felt the pain spread. "Let him go." He continued, this time getting the other man's attention. "Just let him go, I'll deal with this."

The pair held their hard gaze a few more moments before John finally released his tight grip. The look in his eyes spoke louder than words as he grabbed the duffle bag from the corner of the bed. "I'll call to check in you take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Yes sir." Dean replied, the tone of his voice reflecting years of obedience.

"It was good to see you Sam." John continued, barely giving his younger son a glance as he walked by him and made his way towards the door.

Sam passed a hand through his hair, unable to think of anything else he could do or say to make their father reconsider. He caught Dean's eyes but nothing was said and in the silence between them, the screen door slamming shut could be heard throughout the house. He made his way towards the window just in time to see their Dad's truck pull out of the scrap yard and Bobby wave him off. Just like that, he was gone.

"You can't change the kind of person he is Sammy." Dean quietly started, pulling his brother attention away from the window. "I mean what do you expect him to do? Sit around here and spoon feed me soup? Dad's a true hunter, he belongs out there anyway."

"He shouldn't be leaving you like this." Sam once again stated. "Going off to find another case while you..."

"Dude, I'm not a kid. I can handle the job by myself and if I fuck it up, I'll deal with it." Dean cut in. "Or at least I'll try to."

Sam shook his head. "I know you can handle the job by yourself, but my point is that you shouldn't have to."

"You get use to it, it's just part of the gig."

A punch to the face would have been easier to deal with, than watching his older brother follow the bleak path he was once again being dragged down. There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but give it one last shot, give Dean one last chance to change the road he was on. "Come back to California with me." He quietly started, swallowing hard as he caught the other man's eyes. "Take a break from all of this."

"I can't just leave, Sam. I've still got cases lined up and there's still work to do."

"There will ALWAYS be work to do." Sam explained, doing his best to keep his voice from rising again. "There will always be monsters out there to hunt down whether you're in the game or not. Just come back with me or a little while, come see what it's like."

Dean shook his head. "I can't, Dad still needs me here."

"No he doesn't." Sam was quick to reply, his voice echoing in the small room. "He left again without you."

"I'll be laid up for a few weeks at the least, so what's the use in him staying?" Dean calmly started. "Sam I know you don't see it, but he needs me."  
There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh. After everything his brother had been through, he could not believe what Dean had just said. "I don't think Dad needs you as much as you think he does." Sam explained, swallowing the lump in his throat as he watched his brother's eyes suddenly narrow. "The man took off again, didn't even tell us where he was going. Look, all I'm trying to say is that maybe..."

"Go back to school Sammy." Dean interrupted, brining the conversation to a sudden stop. He held his younger brothers eyes and watched as they studied him carefully. It was a look of surprise that would no doubt turn to anger or hate by the time he was done. "Next time you think I need your help dealing with something I put on myself. Think again." Dean continued, sucking in a breath to keep his voice from wavering. "Maybe I don't need your help as much as you seem to think I do." The moment those words left his mouth, he could have sworn he'd seen his little brother's heart skip a beat. Saying it aloud hurt but deep down inside, Dean knew it needed to be said. It was the only way.

In the silence between them you could have heard a pin drop. Sam didn't know how to react or what to say but it was now obvious that there was no need for him there. "Fine." He replied simply, holding his older brother's hard gaze for only a moment before admitting defeat in his attempts to get Dean out from under their father's dark shadow. "See ya around." He added, turning on his heels and heading for the door. He paused in his steps as he turned the corner and came face to face with Bobby in the hall. "I'm heading out too." He explained as he faked a smile. "I've got a lot of school work to catch up on."

Bobby offered a nod as he reached for a hug. "Call me when you make it back to school." He said with a smile as he gave the younger man a pat on the back.

"I will, thanks for everything Bobby." Sam quietly replied.

"Anytime kid." The veteran hunter replied as he stepped aside to let Sam go by. As Sam's footsteps disappeared down the stairs, Bobby couldn't help but let his eyes narrow on the man in the bed in front of him. "Was that really necessary?" He asked, his tone of voice bouncing off the bedroom walls. "He dropped everything to come find you and you know that's more than your daddy would have..."

"It's better this way." Dean interrupted, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes.

"How so?" Bobby was quick to reply, making his way over to the other man's bed. "Explain to me how it's better this way."

"It just is." Dean replied bluntly.

"It's better this way huh?" Bobby continued, his voice forcing the young hunter to look up. "By making him think you just don't give a damn? By making him think that you are not strong enough to break free from your old man's suicidal approach to hunting down the thing that killed your mother?" He paused for only a moment as he tried to make sense of the younger man's reasoning or lack thereof. "You're smarter than all of this, your..."

"You're damn right, I am." Dean interrupted, his voice rising. "It's better this way because if Sam hates me or at least hates the way I treat him, then maybe he'll stay in school and not fall back into all of this. If normal and boring is what he wants, if that's what makes him happy then I don't want to be the reason he gives it all up. I don't want him to stick around out of guilt, to drag him back into a life he's always hated."

Bobby swore under his breath as he passed a hand over his face. "Damn it boy." He growled, his tone of voice dropping as he took a seat on the edged of the bed. "There are better ways to tell him what you think and how you feel."

"What can I say?" Dean whispered, closing his eyes for a moment as the look on his little brother's face flashed in the back of his mind. "I am my father's son after all."

"Doesn't mean you have to be just like him." Bobby quietly replied, watching as Dean struggled to push his emotions aside. What he'd just witnessed between Dean & Sam was something he'd seen before between John and Dean. Keeping someone close at arms length was a harsh strategy but in the end it always worked. And while Dean had given Sam a reason to cut him out of his life, John had given Dean a reason to follow in his footsteps. The man had left again without saying how proud he was, something he knew his oldest son was longing to hear. Leaving him craving that reassurance would only make Dean strive harder to get it, make him do anything asked of him, just to hear it. Such a thought had Bobby's blood boiling, but there was no explaining something so underhanded to the man in the bed before him. Dean would hear none of it because he couldn't see that what he had done to Sam, was something his father often did to him. "Well I got called down to a remote ski resort few hours from here." Bobby started, changing the subject and lifting the mood.

"Seems a cabin burned to the ground last night and Firefighters called to the scene came across two victims; one of them a local Marshall, and the other the subject of a manhunt. Cops are linking that incident to a few murders in the area and they want me to go down there to check it out, see if I can make heads or tails of the whole situation." Bobby paused for only a moment as a slight smile emerged from the corner of Dean's mouth. "Looks like you're out from under the gun this time around." He continued as he got up from his seat. He turned to leave but stopped in his tracks when he heard the fifteen year old boy he still pictured in his head.

"Thanks Bobby" Dean quietly replied, knowing that he'd still be in over his head if it wasn't for his little brother and the veteran hunter's help.

Bobby offered a soft smile. "Anytime." He replied as their eyes met. "I shouldn't be gone too long." He continued without missing a beat. "You'd better still be here when I get back."

The tone in his voice forced the words out of Dean's mouth. "Yes Sir." Came the automatic response. Watching as Bobby made his way out of the room, shutting the door behind him, Dean couldn't help but let his head sink back down into his pillow. Everything was sore, everything hurt so much with every breath yet at the same time everything felt so right. Though he hated himself for pushing Sam away and by doing so encouraging him to turn his back on family, Dean knew it was the only way his brother could get what he wanted and everything he did, he did for Sam.

Dean shut his eyes and took a deep breath, thankful this nightmare was over but knowing that another was waiting for him around the next corner. This was his life in the fast lane and this was all he knew.

Thanks for reading!  
If you're wondering about the ending, I wanted this story to lead up to the pilot episode where the two are somewhat estranged. It was harder than I thought to accomplish but I hope I was able to pull it off. When I started this fic, it all revolved around a single line from the pilot, where Dean says to Sam "If I'd of called, would you have picked up?"


End file.
